My limbs unlax,
stress leaking from my body and
collecting like a basin of a
candle’s freshly melted wax;
One inhale of the plastic casket,
which burns judgingly in my back pocket,
is enough to dredge up the relaxation
my dreary, dramatic life has lacked,
smacking me in my temples
with a dopamine-injected hand.
An inhale, a flurry of smoke,
smolders holes in my lungs
until it constricts and chokes
me, until its disguised benignant nature
reveals its true form;
Stimulants create my deliquesce,
allowing my brain much-needed bliss,
but in a fine, descript disclaimer
written in purposefully disappearing ink, it’s
benevolence whispers addiction.
A spray of gold, a sunflower flash,
a feeling, a sinking before the splash.
A sea of blue, a sapphire sky,
a glitter, a twinkle within your eye.
A stream of orange, a citrus glare,
a scent, a smell that lingers on your hair.
A flood of green, an emerald smile,
a sigh, a whisper, to make it all worthwhile.
A fountain of red, a ruby glow,
a love, a passion of which no one knows.
A river of yellow, a sunshine bright,
a compulsion, a need to hold you through the night.
A shower of silver, a crystal song,
a taste, a glimpse, before it's all gone.
A wash of pink, a rose descript,
an urge, a longing to taste your lips.
A rain of purple, a violet hue,
a moment, a chance, to say, "I love you."
Watching the empty streets
As a heavy rain wash the dirty town.
Deep darkness drape the drives
That lead to dead ends.
Drafts of wind dash hanging pots,
Ruin is the reign of the time.
She barely breathed a farewell.
No whisper weaving a soft adieu
Not even a hug or a parting kiss.
My heart echoes a hollow hum.
It beats like the harsh wind outside.
Life is so hollow, so non-descript.
And sleep has fled. I’ll find no rest.
Sorrow does not sleep. Shadows fill my room.
No moonlight penetrates the heavy drizzling clouds.
Suddenly I leave my forlorn house
And wander right into the rain. Wet and cold,
I feel cleansed and I return, the past washed away.
That night I slept deeply.
Awa……..y
When I think of her
Pa
I
N is broken u
…………….p
Simply by her shadiows touch
Reason to draw a breath
less is MORE
No word made
My man an naw
Descript a crypt
Enviou IIN
a feather
against her worst
Do
Due
To
You
Muppets of the puppeteering
Steering luring leering
No Kermit’s
No guns
How many jobs
to diss a semble (poor sembles)
I can never not see her
Even if she’s knot
There
The air
The heir not their
And drew
a breadth
Ahead…Princely miles
Smiles that time
Rested
in envy
A Trillion to one?
I do believe in miracles
Otherwise I wouldn’t be here
We are all a chance in a trillion
To be born on this sphere
Life is a roll of the dice
With the majority, non-descript
I always felt I was special
But my teachers thought I’m a twit
I’ve probably had a fashionable affliction
Dyslexia, oh, I don’t know
Maybe I was just a slow learner
Or maybe so clever it didn’t show
Any way, thank; uhm, who? I made it
And survived up to this time
I wish I had been famous
But I couldn’t stand the decline.
David Cox 01/07/22
In front of a building, which takes up a block,
Was a garden with bushes that bloomed
And lovingly tended, with rope-like supports,
By a resident, so I assumed.
The colorful blossoms, appearing in spring,
Perked me up as I walked by each day
And I’m sure in the neighborhood, others who passed
Saw those flowers and felt the same way.
Then one morning some barriers blocked off the street
With a sign claiming, “Sidewalk repair”
And the following day I was saddened to see
That the garden was no longer there.
In its stead was a non-descript sidewalk, fresh paved,
So the building looked plain and forlorn,
One more casualty seen in the city today,
One more absence that I get to mourn.
I usually notice bugs right away. This one was no different.
The crux was, it was walking slowly up the wall behind my computer
As I was typing and I noticed it.
A roach? Not quite. Something with wings though. Fat.
Not brown, but not tan, an in-between non-descript color.
I watched it make its way up the wall, toward the ceiling.
I smiled at its tiny little delicate black legs. It had a cute head.
It stopped walking. Maybe its heart was beating fast now, scared?
It started again, straight up to the ceiling.
I watched it walk steadily along the top of the ceiling
South to north. Not a really smart bug apparently.
It gave me incessant hope we may someday be getting spring…..
Hahahaha a sheeple climbing a steeple......it isn't delivering a pizza though is it?....241424 and count a turret then. Turpentine smell of a jaded whiskey arch in a glass. But this is not an ache nor an alkaline. Hahaha fortress of......and then a blank spot.. .many a money many a time....and the message on a bottle is neither round short not either is ut triangular,. Boom bomb and a tank. No fish in the tank though. Hundred times an eon. Asparagus dump. Xxxxxx multiplied multitude musician....xxxxxx counter corrosion..hahahahah.....xxxxxx indescribable z
Oppressive bells that tolls beyond descript
Oppressive walls with eyes that weary not;
Beyond my measure, Shame that runs adrift
That need not be existing—like the dot,
Nor this behooveth not, expanding skies
Alive, unmoving trinity, aloof—
Aground and mired again, in age, the cries
That swing sideways, a pendulum's shamed proof!
In mourning's cauldron, flow within its reach
And sideways swinging, heavy brass adored.
So heavy tolling--snapping rope—a breach,
Set loose beyond descript, which was long scored;
Unpeeling grey and gold, in pieces fell,
All crumbled—Gone—the vacance, free to sell.
A non-descript morning of gray
Gray like the eyes of wolves
In the deep forest at daybreak
Sun chasing night with staves
A faint lavender horizon
That touches distant fog
A silver blanket caresses
The valley and the bog
Crickets outsound the roosters' crows
The fog hinders crows rising
Such a delightful morn of music
Heart's chambers resounding
The coolness after Sunday's rain
Envelopes every trace
It is so uplifting to enjoy
A few minutes in this place
A true refreshing of the soul
As apricot paints the sky
The sun's rays the brush stroke and light
Delights the eyes with surprise
An orange sun peeks through the dark trees
Soon its light and warmth abound
A day more like fall will awake
Drying the dew from the ground
The stars sure sparkle with all of their might
Intrigue dances inside of each worn heart
Pinholes bring glory by giving their light
Successful sight is brought with a new start
Enigma of the sky the stars bring pride
The stars sure sparkle with all of their might
They band together and surely confide
The stars bring us hope and wishes delight
The little specks of light are quite a sight
Harbors a sense of love, a descript form
The stars sure sparkle with all of their might
The stars link as one and they sure conform
A grand image is what’s right before me
The stars glow, shining as if they are bright
There are some shooting stars, I wish nightly
The stars sure sparkle with all of their might
Russell Sivey
Contest: Sweet Dreams / moon / night poems (OLD) Do not submit a poem that have been place in old contest.
Sponsor: TEX-A
5/21/2013
I first noticed my newly acquired gift,
When paying for another drink,
My hand met the barman’s,
And in my mind’s eye:
Shadows,
Shadows and non descript light,
Cold cobbles against my cheek,
Pain,
Searing pain across my chest,
And shallow breath so weak,
Blood,
Blood upon my cold fingers,
And across the ground a streak.
Smile,
Smile upon the barman’s face,
Finding joy in the alley bleak.
I pulled my hand back coins and all,
And tried to recollect my thoughts,
Both afraid and confused,
At the nightmare I had seen.
The barman’s face was quite surprised,
No sign of the smile I’d seen,
And I convinced myself,
My mind was playing games.
Perhaps my school chum’s story,
Still fresh in my thoughts,
Had gotten to me,
More than I had realised.
But still I left the coins on the bar,
Rather than risk another touch,
Another bolt of pain,
Another glimpse of Shadows.
Hummingbird tattooed
On girl holding a pillow
Braids within a long sweater
Fingernails with butterflies
Two blue swirled buttons
A large star necklace
Soft leather purse
In a downpour
Russell Sivey
She's marrying again,
and the promises flying
when her lips were mine -
they're now dying.
I broke near all
'til she couldn't take
what I'd become, and left
in truth for my own sake.
Pain being an elusive thing,
beyond descript' or human speech,
yet only availed by human touch
was healing come within my reach.
I'd come to her so damaged,
a human deeply scored
by assertions and desertions;
she rose to hero accord.
I'd believed her presence part of me,
our lives entwined forever,
and in that life I did find healing.
And does love die? No. Never.
If I were to be a font,
I wonder which font I would be?
Calibri and Arial are nice, but a little too common for me.
If I were to be a font,
I would pick which one with care;
Old English Text, French Script and Matura are cool, but I don’t quite have that flare.
If I were to be a font,
I think it would have to be bold;
Aharoni, Copper Black and Elephant might all be in the fold.
If I were to be a font,
It would have to be descript;
Baskerville Old Face, Broadway and Forte my personality just doesn’t fit.
If I were to be a font,
I would want to be understood;
Times New Roman, Century and Courier, I think, all would be good.
If I were to be a font,
I wonder which font I would be?
And whatever font I happened to be,
I hope that you would choose me.
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