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Tourmaline Poems - Poems about Tourmaline


Premium Member Montage, Part One of Many
I stand Standing upon the emerald landscape posture stiff and still Eyes like black holes devouring the space around me Glass horse galloping, prisms exploding through the plainlands Time passes faster and faster the clouds cocoon and bloom into a wrinkled face, nearing a necessary wail I blink A cliffside abbey, tourmaline waves crash into the fissured face Hung to the horizon, dangling like a...

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Categories: tourmaline, dream, imagery, imagination, longing,
Form: Free verse
Premium Member Tourmaline
Tourmaline filled with flawless obnubilated sheen A soft expression of what your existence in my life does mean How do you put a value on perfect connection? It is as if you were meant to be my life's intersection Do you truly appreciate what you mean? You are happiness personified within my observations glean. Affection to you I will give...

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Categories: tourmaline, beautiful, girlfriend, lost love,
Form: Rhyme



Premium Member October's Falling Leaves, Tourmaline
October's Falling Leaves (Tourmaline) Frost glazed leaves Of red and yellow sheens Are strewn about by the breeze. And it’s charming to trend Tourmaline’s side-wend To avoid stepping on them. Then, she smiles back at me Uttering in glee, “October’s falling leaves.” *** Note: The opal and pink tourmaline are...

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Categories: tourmaline, autumn, imagery, october,
Form: Verse
Premium Member Tourmaline Birthstone Cycle
October hushes a cold snap, baldachin for red, brown and gold leaf. Indian summer waver, Indian rope trick sent to douse earthen world shackle. Bogus heat pump transience. Polar air mass scatters migrant bird on vibrant amber. Ocean gust saline coated whisper to autumn eardrum host. Nightscape shadows rudely cut across the afternoon event space. Date posted : 19th October 2021...

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Categories: tourmaline, appreciation, art, autumn, birth,
Form: Imagism
Premium Member The Mask of Tourmaline
Twice the night had fallen upon a sleepless slumber, Yet again awoken by winter when the third was three in number. I sense that a silence doth sneak ‘tween cracks of weathered wood, Conniving with that which shadows show to those whose senses could. Turning my head to a feather’s peck from a pillow that knows its head, Which...

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Categories: tourmaline, anxiety, horror, imagination, mystery,
Form: Couplet




Book: Reflection on the Important Things