I didn’t place my name
Because I didn’t want the words tethered to me,
I want no credit,
Hoping that the verbiage gives you sight.
A prescription of my rose colored glasses.
Hoping that each string of words are embroidered on your heart.
It's too bad there are only English poems allowed,
For I found the most beautiful poem,
the most exact, precise, lush, and sustainable string of words.
But they are from another planet,
A separate universe,
An odd community.
But the words,
Their meaning,
Transfixes time,
Melts the moment.
Decries of new gods.
Turns the very grains of sand into jellybeans.
But, alas, I cannot share it.
Only English language poems are allowed.
Thanks.
Okay, I'll give you the first line:
dlskfh[roeihujn wepfjwpei pweifjw'efipj.
If you knew what that meant.
It would change your world forever.
one string of words
from wrong to right
upwards
until the revolution
starts again
15th August 2021
Chest heaves, take in deep breaths,
lips quivering in a string of words, unheard even by myself.
Yet the mind screams,
wanting to give that chair a good kick,
till it will disappear from my sight.
My foot won't let me anyway:
it knows that the pain would only make me worse.
I look over at the phone.
It's buzzing at some great unknown speed,
I know why. Rockie.
Well, she doesn't seem to make me any better today.
Without reading all that she texted,
I rudely wrote -
"Bad mood today."
I kept the phone. Then took it back.
I added those emojis,
the ones with the red face and zipped lips.
There's a mispronounced hurt, crawling in my veins.
A thorough disdain, lurking in my brains.
Pouring from eyes, falling from my soul.
Channeling through the skies, a sick twisted role.
Grasping at a fleeting breath, a pain so true.
With a string of words unspoken, I'm losing you.
I cannot sleep, I cannot wake.
Trapped forevermore in a mistake.
Bring me closer, to the end.
A direction from the composer, once a trusted friend.
The thought of it all, so overwhelming and futile.
Hoping for my fall, hoping for a crescendo of style.
Can I see the sky, hiding in your eyes?
Will I be left to die, left in a secret hearts lies?
Funny,
the muses neglected to visit
while you slept with your head on my shoulder,
while my fingers wrote wordless sonnets in your hair,
while we unfolded the rich and mysterious
discovery of each other
like a heavily embroidered cloth
but tonight while the lamp burns,
while regret presses his heavy head against me,
while you sleep in solitude
in a room on the other side of town,
a hesitant cadence
a string of words
begins to stitch the unravelled cloth,
attempting to complete
what we could not.
She ignited the string of words,
The intensity and passion in my heart
Her tender whispers calls me out;
The wonderful serendipity of meeting her
Everywhere I vanish,
She lets me fade in her elusive trance,
The swaying of trees,
The humming of birds,
The chirping of crickets,
The swishing of leaves
It’s a clubhouse better than us
The ground looks like an evening gown
Of flowers and leaves, vibrantly hued
She makes me swing in her lap
Every time I experience her ocean of calmness,
I soak myself in the spring of madness
And slowly she caress my soul
And resurrects me to a different paradise
My poetry is frozen without her,
My Mother Nature
The house of love
a door
is always open
when I come
and go
windows
search in longing
and
miss
my presence
each room
always
save breath
peace and beauty
light
in silence
shining clear
accompanied
chant
the string of words
in beautiful poems
the house of love
full awareness
a true shade
maintain the
existing comfort
don’t move
from
the house of love
~ (c) Sukmawati Komala
05 May 2013
WEIGH ME DOWN
My words can only convey the thought
Not the true feelings that flow within
The rage that burns through my body and mind
Cannot be measured by any verb or string of words
Self imposed exile from any semblance of reality
The only peace I know resides alone, an untapped well
I am not the person everyone thinks that I am
I am not at all what I appear to be, disguised
This world I know is not my world, I do not belong
Far removed from any road I care to travel
Stolen chances echo loudly in my mind
And I know that I can never know what I was to be
I look back not liking much of what I see
And looking ahead the future is bleak in front of me
Overcoming my misfortunes really hasn’t mattered
Because they are still the anchors that will always weigh me down
Family and friends, the rising and setting sun, the air we breathe
Cliché's reserved for those moments when all is clear
Darkness and despair, anger and frustration, disgust
Cliché's reserved for when an ending is near
And all I see is light at the end of the tunnel,
Signaling the nearness of my destination.
It’s soon to be over …
Oh where do I start
A string of words light of heart....
Romantic kick start
By Robb A. Kopp
All Rights Reserved © MMX
I thought and pondered about this token.
What would be the best?
No amount of funds is too great
to show you the immense amount
of devotion I have for you.
No matter how hard I did consider
I cannot conceive of the perfect souvenir
to express my adoration to you.
I have scanned the isles,
flipped pages,
and clicked the mouse,
to no avail.
None were just right for my beloved.
But once I stopped pursuing it,
a thought did occur.
I've possessed it all along.
My birthday gift to you
is this string of words
I have thrown together and Me.
Find yourself
Come face to face
Against a wall or
In a warm embrace.
See yourself
A slivery shadow
Eager to pounce
ready to know.
Touch yourself
A string of words
Snapped by emotion
Fired by verbs.
Smell yourself
A certain stench
Washed in blood
Do not flinch.
Taste yourself
A salty rage
Bitter as bile
Or sweetened by age.
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