Rinsed Poems - Poems about Rinsed

...Lay there sinking, thinking under the surface of sodden anxieties. Recall you darkly the flickering hours, the tinctured years, as sweat-stained sheets leech. This room may be your last gasp......

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... When the saint sun is reborn from the womb of wisteria, rising above symphonies ~ scripting a saga, of enlightenment and coral coloured karma, I ripple in rosettes, as an avatar of him......

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... When the raspberry horizon is curled up, shaping caramel-lilac lips of the cashmere kismet, singing in a choir of cherry chivalry and honey-glazed fireflies ~ those snowy stars......

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... Each night after the evening meal there was never a discussion as to who would wash the dishes and who would do the drying up. My mother was the washer, my sister and I did the drying up. ......

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...My end begins aimless Nothing led by my steps But my death led to greatness So it was foretold. . . honor Among my strangers The graves dug around me grew numerous Like flies to a corpse, rot......

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... born with hair slightly wavy as summer sea's crest, Mom would treat it as her morning decor ritual--- ponytailed, pinned at the crown with zigzag of ribbons, braided two-ways, and god know......

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...When the heart feels the weight of unvoiced verses, as the verdant embers of Venus follow the frozen warmth and the permafrost flickers of persimmon and cinnamon, like poetry slipping throu......

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...“As God’s spark ensouling organic form, I am that presence which cannot be named, felt within as a magnetic bliss storm, divine pulsation that cannot be tamed, gentled by His touch, w......

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...I trace bitter trials of another Helios spark~ as a collapsed marionette, barely seeing colors of clarity, between onyx-glazed flames, tangled in the hollow temple carved in mediev......

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... Earth worms form drum circles rising through new-rinsed mud, to nurse the soil.......

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...L i f e a prison of pretense and I still dream of walking through tempests of chaos barefoot, allowing stones and pebbles to tattoo my languid skin with love in lilac, as ashes of yesterday e......

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... An inarticulate artist, I wanted to paint the lone life’s landscape, effervescent, the construed course of a river called desire unrestrained, meandering its way......

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... The dry stem of a lonesome vine of vivacity, now painfully curled, rooted frozen, entwining the desiccated verdant veins, sways chilled in the winter wind of desolation. The sleeping passio......

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...Where the tide licks a sandy beach a running ripple thins to wash a ring of rounded pebbles - there, a muddy ribbon trickles through brine rinsed trinkets surged up as a slosh of time f......

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... The dispersed grains of darkness drizzle down silently from the cauldron of boundless blankness of timeless infinity that the sky starts to shape at the edge of dwindling dusk, its condensed r......

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