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Spencer Dennison Aug 2014
I'm alright.
I'm fine.
I will be alright.
All poets have it a bit rough, right?
Saw this format on the trending poems page and it gave me an idea. #PoeticT
He's a cool guy, check out his page. http://hellopoetry.com/poetic-t/
Spencer Dennison Aug 2014
You make me want to take up skydiving...

Because I
                  want
                             to
                                      learn
                                                   how
                                                                to
                                                                  f
                                                                   a
                                                                     l
                                                                       l
                                                                        for you
SerZatarra May 2014
Goodnight green eyes,
Your dreams await you in Silver-Lined skies,
Dreams of dragons, and fairies, and me,
and hopefully just a touch of mystery.
The sliding colors slipping silently through silky seas,
gliding gracefully over gallant gull wings,
whisking you away with a gentle breeze.
You see dragons and pirates,
fairies and gypsies,
tricksy little gnomes,
and flamboyant pixies,
you see them all tucking away,
hiding in there homes as their thoughts start to stray.
and as you glide gracefully over the sea,
your thoughts start to wonder what tomorrow will be,
will there be adventures or heart ache and loss,
or maybe even a romp through the moss,
you might not know now,
but theres something you do,
that someone you love,
is waiting for you.
Alex Vice Apr 2014
When will art die?
Maybe when darkness covers the sky,
Or when we **** each other in atomic war
And our bombs destroy the earth's core
Will art fade away?
When there's nothing left to say,
Will art go out with the sun?
Or be taken away with a gun,
What will be the last song or dance?
Will it end in Kansas, or Paris France?
Who'll make the last painting?
Will they know? Their hands shaking,
Will anyone even cry?
On the day art will die...
But i have to admit,
Seeing the end would be quite a hit,
Second only to the beginning,
When art goes out exploding
Shannon Apr 2014
upon the elephant rode a boy prince,
his royal command, he was there to evince.
dark with grace and dripping with youth.
bringing his men, his crown and his couth.
town after town he strode fierce through the gates.
and any detractors were left to cruel fates.
and on one windy day, as they strode into town.
the faces where tenfold and a hush passed around
the grey of the creature with knowing black eyes
swayed left towards the crowd as if to capsize.
and the mass gasped in horror; bairns seized by their mam.
men flung at young ladies, babes pulled from the pram.
the bewildered and flustered
tired elephant sat.
in the center of all on the bald pastors hat.
the old pastor looked stunned to see such a disgrace.
until he remembered, and composed his face.
'your highness' he bowed. his manners restored.
but the poor prince was toppled his mighty seat floored.
they gasped for the prince, just really a child
dressed in fine silks on this elephant wild.
pastor said, 'here now' extending an arm
hand wrinkled and gnarled from the land that he farmed.
then the guards sprung to life as if sudden awake
guns point to the man of whose life they would take.
and just as they squinted their eye for the aim
a boy sang out sweetly, 'sire he's not to blame!'
and the prince from street where he lay in pool
held up his hand and recovered his rule.
he looked at the crowd and he said 'boy now speak'
the boy said, 'prince it is the prayers that you seek.
the prayers that you'd visit. the prayers that you'd stay.
lord must of heard them and granted this way.'
his eyes wide with truth and the love of his church
the prince laughed a beautiful belly filled lurch.
the carriage was called as the prince shared a feast.
and even some water was splashed on the beast.
such a good time as he danced and he spun
till the horses arrived in the dust of a run.
to thank the town and the lovely haired boy
the young prince gave up his own precious toy.
the beast stays quite put in the center of town...
but prayers said no more...so the prince won't fall down.

sahn
04/10/2014
*with love, for kales, jess & jt* (otherwise entitled "watch what you pray for, for you just might get it"
Together
games         of    lust
blossom,             blossom–
*****             of   fire
in wartorn
skies.

We can
dance and
pretend
Passion
Meaning.
Written 3/27/2014.

— The End —