Bare Poems - Poems about Bare

Naked are the bones so hallow crowned around my soul Give heed unto the wounds Ive sewn I'll mend me back to whole Though broken I'll remain to pave the path that is my sound My roots undone thine will be one hallowed by thy ground Victory unspoken I'm forever bound to never Bones bare and shown yet never known My chaos is forever...

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Inflamed deep freeze rebels in alliance bare hands are what will nullify the Empire....

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Visibility is low, wear a bright vest, Cycle with lights on, caution is best. Stay on the bike path across the Tappan Zee The Hudson's below, but you can't see You can't see the water, the fog is like a wall It might be a blanket, it might be a pall You peer through glasses...

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Plastic pink flamingos often placed in the front yard to replace the candles of a birthday cake. I wonder how old the neighborhood skeleton is… —by Poet Bare Bones Yard skeleton fell over - first day. The bones just collapsed - hip..hip..hurray! Flamingoes took flight from yard - out of sight. It’s April second,...

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I am naked. _bare_ my hands (_)Whose trace are these wounds? I am naked. [naked] prominent blue grooves, - Green, - Blue, - Red! Red whispers(./:) on your skin crawls _my skin_ Is pale(.) your skin(,/.) Stretches _sketch_ [sleepy] - are you dead - are you? - you dead? my skin(!/?) I draw a line. _grooves_ [groove] are you (…/?) Red pours. Pours (./?) _Pouring_ Hanging. Burning. _flow_ The flow of the artery in the groove of my skin. [Soil] I was sleeping. What color was the soil? do you know? are you… red...

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Older chatbots, just like people, show signs of cognitive impairment, failing on several important metrics in a test normally used on humans. ~Drew Turney, Live Science, 02/16/2025 old AI as demented as I enter into the abyss ...

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She shivers about, tense at the inhospitable world blinds and plexiglass seal frightened creatures from. Rocking from root to root — in front, in back, in the sun’s silhouette, the wind fancies her social anxious, as if her and I were not sustained by the same substance, as if our roads will not diverge. When I learn...

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Eyes unlock the heart Sorrow births words, bittersweet Poetic fodder 1/25/25 9:06 am...

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The scars you bear is a story that has been told. Of battles fought, of courage bold. They etch a map upon your skin, A testament to strength within. Feminine you, in every way, Your spirit shines, a brighter day. No missing breast, no fallen hair, Can dim the light that's always there. For beauty lies not in the form, But in...

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Lay my heart bare, let it bleed and spill, Upon these pages, where silence once filled. With every tear, my story is written, In ink and in sorrow, my truth will be told. I rip my heart wide, like a book that's well-worn, Each scar is a reminder of battles I've borne. Let the words dance freely, unchained and uncouth, For you...

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In the white night, the bare branches dance with the snowflakes, Whispering stories of dreams floating on the horizon, Fragile as mist, ready to disperse in the wind. My thoughts stumble, flowing like an uncharted river, Reminding me of a moment suspended in time, captured in a lens, A frozen memory of what could have been, what could become. In the...

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Your body pressed up against mine Your hands running through my hair you make it feel like a crime Your absence makes me feel so bare The dark light up above The skin to skin feeling I know we are in love I see you kneeling There is a star up above I see it through the window The feeling of this love I see...

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Written: January 03, 2025 ___________________________________ In a world without walls, feelings run wild, Their vision soars, such a curious child. Unbound by meter or syllable count, Words ballet freely, without a surmount. Embracing nakedness in its pure form, Expression flows,...

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{"I wish somebody, some entity would’ve told me, even warned me with the intuitiveness that lies within the motherly instincts, the nature of humanity without malevolent reluctance. That lying in the darkness for whom which shrouds and coaxes wasn’t for the betterment Of me. For I have withered in the lurking and indented damage of myself, waiting...

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Dancing on my own grave, both sides of the same coin; The power’s in the flip; Is it righteous or the night? A slow waltz can give lip; Dancing on my own grave rattles the underground; Unruly sounds fill the air; Ombré locks dressed to kill, a bit devil may care; Dancing on my own grave the necromancer moves; Calling the wrong magic; Bare bones...

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