Blue people around a table—
gloves, nets, gowns, everything is blue.
He was just waiting for a call,
Maybe his life was hung up too?
They removed his glorious crown,
a crown placed on his head his birth.
The cold scalpel moved its way down,
skipping everything from the dirt.
It found something full of the soul,
Almonds! they saw sorrow, cried out.
It was never your fault at all.
It's never wrong to be cowards.
A bird locked in a nested cage,
Cries, cries, cries! The veins cried out blood!
Flowers bloom from a ripped out page,
It never hurts when it's at dawn.
A glance, a touch, a cut to thrive,
All they could see were broken strings,
But they didn't know how to tie.
Maybe they should leave it as is?
Fly high, my innocent white dove.
Stitches close what we could've been,
but for now, please remove your gloves.
The time of death: 4:59.
You can have my corpse and my worms,
Oh but what did you do that for?
Shattered
They grabbed my heart forcefully
ripping my aorta
The scalpel reaches to the sternum
Cutting 8 inches
The start of a bleeding heart
Secrets flooding my house
As I become tempted to borrow
That paring knife
Used to punish the pain
A mercy calling
I took a joy ride driving from Las Vegas NV
Going to Salt Lake City in one shot
I drove and drove
Trying to decide what I was going to do
Live or die
Now I live to tell
In our darkest hours
Expression in the medium of artistry
Words painting the blank Canvas
Of our life until called to come home.
monarchs sail plashless
while her shards of deceit pierce
my aorta, ripe
I take my aim giving credence to the collapsed infrastructure called my brain. the subconscious is so unclear. Stabbed by imagination I lay bleeding as my aorta atery bleeds. I do this as such my mother goose. no motives or direct actions that have been claimed. clowns we are forever here to play.
give me your aorta ~ and in exchange i will give you a nice pulse
said the kidney bean to a cabbage heart ~ as it openly convulsed
but the black eyed peas protested violently ~ acting with impulse
of course i needed a leek pretty bad ~ and suddenly felt repulsed
We are at the world's edge
Playing non-stop on reed
Along the lyrics of natural nerds
Singing solemnly aloud to no end
With courage, strength and gut, we fledge
Upon all it throws cum concurrent need
We put the flag of fitness on substantial words
Giving all to the moment per chance cum luck to contend
In the hopeful grace that endangers mind's den
Either our says are blue or our minds, red
Our DOS will glee come what may to adhere
To our souls' operating systems regarding gene
Shout out to men on pen
Boys are not stone yet not dread
But are readily fit to contend without fear
Be it in Apomu, London, or even Eugene
It is either we win or battles rend
But no surrender not even for greed
Of pasture which mortal wants green
Of which everyone has become an aorta
That accompany the mysteries pens trend
In this peaceful tease is my awesome breed
A figure of troubled bliss pecking fate's serene
Gracefully, I belong to this wonderful "M" genre.
Narrated Aisha:The Prophet in his ailment in which he died,used to say"O Aisha! I still feel the pain caused by the food I ate at Khaibar,and at this time,I feel as if my aorta is being cut from that poison.
when you knock on my door, i sorta
feel a intense pulse in my aorta
loving you quickens my weak heart
but i feel i could die if we were apart
This love is chaotic
My anxiety to feel your skin texture
Leads me to severe headache and fever,
My breath cutoff,
And eyes turn red
When ever I'm vulnerable to your presence,
Your love is a sweet virus,
Virus that pierces my esophagus
And sets sputum in my lungs,
A sweet virus that digests in my aorta
And spreads through my vessels
With no doubt,
I'm optimistic that your love is a virus
Made by God to enslave my soul,
I cough, sneeze and tremble
When I perceive your face
Like Covid-19 patient,
I rather wear eyes mask if there's any,
Because nose mask can not save me,
A single jab from you entangle
My emotions,
The endless feelings flicker in my head,
Your love is a sweet pain I can't forgo.
___________________
© Artistic Poet??
Lonely Soul
I’m forever in your debt, m’lady
This me confess openly:
I offer U
every pulmonary part
of this obsidian heart
O beautiful Ivory mare,
I love when you graze upon me
with those pretty olive eyes
As your bright yellow ponytail hair
shimmers in the vale breeze
I confess willingly,
I’m in your debt eternally, m’lady love
Your brave maiden rescue —
Galloping deliverance
from a brokenheart solitude
It t’was celestial revival approved
For this saving grace,
‘I do’ offer you
every pulsating part
of my obsidian heart
I owe you
every aorta praise prairie thing
That a lonesome Appaloosa can steppe sing
M’lady, let me kiss your
heroine horseshoe
O beautiful filly, Ivory!
I just want to thank you on bending knee
For listening bosom intently
to my verdant vow, passionate plea
Her exhalation of loin lucidity
mentally fertilizes
my inhalation with ova clarity
Silent eyes move with
midnight aura imperative speed
Time dilation purity
seem to halo heat signature read
Twin soul synchronicity
mirrors a muffled,
dual embrace reciprocity:
A horizontal transmission need
Sigh ... blink
Thought oscillations
of laser intensity
enter the deepest diaphragm part
of fetal prone me
Pheromone palpitations
leaves a muted trail of inaudible moans
Cosmic kiss-synapse fluidity
is the lip-binding universal speech
Blink ... sigh
Love urgency travels
on an arrhythmic aorta beam
Unspoken passion
twas utterly bosom conceived
Glacial on the inside
Frozen memories
of a lost, tropical paradise life
Frostbitten feelings slowly moving
to the other bipolar side
Icy reflections of striated emotions;
dark moods,
lighthearted nostalgia aurora views
temporarily soothes
Sparkling snowflakes —
crystalline sadness swirl deeper inward
everyday
a new layer of coldness
ignite the igloo beating hearth
Sub-zero lonely, empty pulse desires
buried inside an Arctic aorta:
The pulmonary permafrost side of hell on earth
Solitary cold is the fire
that burns within
A desolate fortress of denial
is never warmed by the freezing flames
The cold dawn of bliss
is eternal midnight burning
underneath an avalanche of anguish
Love snuffed cold fire ...
the icy cries keep neverending smouldering
Always ready to soul shatter burst
into a raging blizzard of unmelted tears again
My aorta beats in golden poppies,
pulsing down slopes to pool
in a bruise of purple sage.
Though my eyes gleam
with lemon marigolds
snow caps of porcelain lupine
melt on my lashes,
undulating in a quiet tempest
of periwinkle asters.
Beneath a bluebell sky
the sun colors my cheeks
with the blush of primroses
as monarchs lilt
like birds of paradise
among velvet morning glories
and a shy alyssum breeze
caresses my emerald cloak.
3/26/19
Marathon Qualifiers Contest
Mark Toney
Blinded to all of the desirable flaws
within pillow reach
Shallow beauty of uneven temperament
rises and falls
with the tide of X-ray attraction
Ultraviolet thoughts in visible range,
scan the scarred marks
on an arrhythmic, telltale heart
Tender touch select a barely audible
passionate promise of silhouette pleasure
Sarah Vaughan on the playlist,
speaks softly low
after every Phyllis Hyman kiss
Silky braille scats,
pure Al Jarreau ...
fingering the body fretboard
Leaves an infra-red lip signature
Blind to the faults
of a carefree gypsy, wandering attitude
Wait patiently
to impart a better bosom perspective
Open the clay vaults
while the lava flow of the moment moves
Let love clarity
be the retinal force which aorta give
See those gems of free expression
paint the intimate mood
Glittering hues of breathtaking ecstasy
is blind to the fact —
seeking love is a natural obsession
Patient Hope is on a stoic decline
The celluloid tread mill
is crybaby set
on an aorta sob incline —
A cardio faithless, vertical whine
Shouldering the weight of personal decisions,
is seen nowadays
as an irresponsible, bulimic activity
Cares of the world
will surely take an unkind toll
on the body and soul
Lust obesity trick imagery
is a mirror mirage
of illusory, measured wait loss
But how much wasted time
in your slouch sofa life did it cost?
For a slimmer waistline,
Vanity became your sin slave boss
Phat pocket dreams
binge bought on a lottery coin toss
Puffed up pride made you take a wait loss
Virtuous self-denial sacrifices
is a lost art —
an unpracticed part
of flabby moral muscle shedding
Taut bellies of bloated importance
(attained through artificial,
sweaty palm wait loss)
is a self-absorbed sin of indulgence
Rash prayers desiring rushed results,
be a twig spandex figure
uncertainty marred by obese doubt
And discarding of the necessary,
healthy heft of navel faith
is a wait loss ...
Unnatural mental womb aerobics,
that an anorexic spirit
chose to exercise
at a flatline metabolic rate
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.