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Best Poems Written by Bianca Jones

Below are the all-time best Bianca Jones poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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The Drawing of Circles

It lingers without trace, and for evidence we seek
Long away from eyes prying
Further off the path from crashers feet
To this place of solitude
To this place promised to let one be free
This state that borders euphoria
That questions all we'd once believed
     Is it love?
     Is it life?
     Is it friendship?
     Is it to drain exhale complete?
     Is it freedom?
     Is it quiet?
     Is it a place of retreat?
Lingers if sobering into the withdrawl of sleep
That escapes nuances of time and the desires of others needs
And so beyond we cast search
Beyond the flecks of faultering gold we see
In hopes to come full circle
In hopes to find true peace.

Copyright © Bianca Jones | Year Posted 2013



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The Lack of Reason

I am beyond reason-
    NO! I am at odds with reason
This unjustifiable act I deplore
Posing as righteous when in fact despicable
This thing which misconstrues that which is at its core
Burns and buries emotions
Makes suspect of all one once adored
Depleting credible relationships to useless parody
To associations that truly mean nothing to anyone, anymore
This posture of reason I detest
Flung about to objectify and belittle
To separate and strengthen lines of protest
To make the less priviledged be further ridiculed
Has one no heart?
No compassion?
No sense to be-
     Beyond the constraints of social platters
All of which are matters that now mean nothing to me
For I have seen and in seeing have seen through
No longer shall I be reasoned with
No longer shall I be posed as the fool
For my heart and spirit are rich
Gorging on affairs that enrich
That bring one closer to the basis of their existence
That allows one to be rather than feel insufficent
The defect lies not in the feeling
But completely and purposefully in its reasoning
So I am at odds, bare strict contention with such beings
Such anomolies confused as dignities!

Copyright © Bianca Jones | Year Posted 2013

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The Heart, The Hand

With shaking hand I write in dimmed light
Strings of words robust burst and slip from my pen
With a grave heart I write
With a frail heart I forgive
It mimicks the sound of life
     Of love and such things
Such fragile things which tend to burn in the sunlight
Things that are made all the more deceiving
A heaviness that lasts
That sticks to the ribs and heart now heavy
That rewrites itself till mad
Drawing circles around itself till silly
It punctures and weens
By elastic grip it clings
Turning right what was once impossible, or so it seems
In again, gone till forgotten completely
I rise on unsteady feet
Overseeing all that lies around me in heaps
Careful now not to impose or create hostility
     For the hand is sensitive and unreasoning
By strike of silent blow it extends
More willing than most and less willing to forgive
What's scribbled in haste and panic hard to comprehend
Yet to the hand it stands on its own merit
For hope it seeks-
In the words it creates
Like prayers from an incompetent though loving beast
In braille it signs all of its messages plain
For fear that I may shrink
     Become pale in its presence
For its divine love I seek
None other than that which the hand so frivilously speaks
From sleep I awake
To pages filled and marked
Dressing myself in them
As if talismans or some form of holy art
To make me, to REmake and refashion me clean
But never doing away completey as so I'll not forget the beginning
With shaking hand I scribble unpredictably
Lacking grace and intelligence and formality
But this is all I know
This pen and its speech
What it feels and the depths from which the words come from
These words, unlike any man, now standing up for me.

Copyright © Bianca Jones | Year Posted 2013

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The Dawn

We all have a tendancy to fade
Becoming marred in a false reflection
An image that pretends though it is us who makes all of the effort
An image false in its merit-
     Therefore meritless
Slipping beyond the wonder that supercedes contentment
That borders on allusion and disenfranchisement
Though we want it, wanting it pure
So that soon even its fantasy doesn't exist
So that soon we've faded away into oblivion.

Copyright © Bianca Jones | Year Posted 2013

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Replacements

We make it in digital so that nothing real exists
Beyond the firey belly thought horizon
Far beyond the fraudulence of existence
Numbers and symbols form and this replaces our language
The heart is gone, nothing but rom and unread messages
Cold to the touch and anger replaces our moral ethics
We make it in stereo so that we know it is real
Speakers pounding to replace the hole where heart once filled
She heard it in waste, on repeat three times a day
But it all somehow remains meaningless
Going in and out of dead space
Barely recognizing a recognizeable face
It swells and then it quickly builds
In empty space it lives
Made toxic but sweeter still
In sync the destruction of hope and heart appear
But it is all squalor and sickness
Thus we make it in hologram so that we can feel 
One must erase or become deleted, otherwise it all becomes far too real
As a touching moment between friends turned lovers that will soon end
     Because in the end it is all truly insignificant
What seemed impromptu later is revealed as scheduled
Proven to be hoax, planned and illegitimate
As it is wise to look before one leaps
Before the fall even the strong can be deceived
As I when I believed you friend, when in truth you all were enemy
Made strong by my hope, my naivety
They told me it's ok to grieve
But before my grief could last too long they all abandoned me
With care their lies paved and stupidly along its path I came
     Because if one can't believe then how are we to have any faith?
So, they broadcast it in digital to make us into slaves
It's purchased and bartered, laundered and exchanged
In innocent blood they are all washed and bathed
Made pure by impure act and trade
Made in America and over time slowly degrades
We've all been duped, we've all been betrayed.

Copyright © Bianca Jones | Year Posted 2013



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Chasms

It opens for you-
     I have opened for you
Again and again slit
Tettering between made love and maddening guilt
With a slight touch you pierce
Beaming and cutting through me bit by bit
Something staggering on the paranormal between us exists
Something that can't be defined, categorized or resembling anything ever spoken of or lived
Though somehow it's daggered and chipped
By our many tears and trysts
Though heart bears a hunger
The mind divided and split
Opening over and over again-
     I've opened over and over again
Disasterously my love for you is spent
Shrouded in mystery and an unmoving emptiness
Meanwhile the flies have swarmed
Latching onto the darkness overgrown
Suffering in silence-
     Opening myself for you no more.

Copyright © Bianca Jones | Year Posted 2013

Details | Bianca Jones Poem

One Shot

If we ever meet
If you ever see me 
     Where shall I stand?
     Where shall it be?
From dreams deep and dark I dreamt
Frequently during night and day I visit it
     More times than you will ever know
     More often then I would dare admit
Inconsequently the frequency grows
Sending chills throughout my body and fingertips
This is no coincidence
This is destiny at its sweetest
Made to bloom from years of commitment-
     My commitment to be yours, no matter the consequence
If once, if only...
Buried beneath flesh made stiff
From the merging of two bodies joined
Joined at the widening of lovers hips
If we ever speak
If ever you were to know me
     To speak my name and repeat it joyfully
Spoken into crevices of dirt unspoiled to me;
"I am yours," I repeat, "I am yours and yours alone, eternally"
Such promises would not to be taken lightly
When given as gift from heart kindly
With sincere truth I speak
With righteous devotion I keep
Careful to tread with light feet
     As so not to appear conquering when we do finally meet
When, where? Only then will I know of relief
Until then I refuse to resort to man-made trickery
If we ever come to know one another
If ever I am to come to you outside of my dreams
Your hand in mine I will take
Wrenching it and caressing it generously-
     Feverishly...
     Tenderly, as my desire refuses to wait
My desire refuses crushing
Refuses to be dismissed or refrained
As I speak to you, of you and yet just...
My hope is to someday be near you
Near you and out of this magicians dream dust
To be free of it and free to declare my love
Without restriction or interest in criticism
Both I have known too much of
I speak it, it is spoken
Gifted and I pray received
As if traveling by motor boat
Cutting through waves and currents pushing upstream
This thing, this love I have come to acquaint
Eyes made vision and truthful as I imagine us face to face
Given no dialect, no dialogue, no sense of direction or pace
To be, and yet to have come from two such distantly different states
Makes one's body surge and curve while remaining in one place
Because as I've said, if we ever meet
If ever you are to see me-
I promise our meeting will come to no such waste.

Copyright © Bianca Jones | Year Posted 2013

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No Good

Governing a smile with tension

Doing my best not to raise suspicion-

     But it does me no good

Gone awhile without showing the expression

The frail and distort paleness in complexion

Tried my best to be present, yet so far I've failed at showing the proof

Kindness and sincerity flushed from me

Wasted down rusted pipes and cracked tubing

Faking it impossibly, but doing my best to stay cool

While fully aware that it does me no good

Though on the brink of anxiety

Banging at the front door of retirement-

     Because falsity wears on fools

Foolishly succumbing

Slipping through palms that easily crumble

That make weakness seem humble

That bears pause to the easily corrupted

Trying ones best to overcome the uncomfortable

Though completely aware that it does me no good.

Copyright © Bianca Jones | Year Posted 2012

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The Spins

Brought on by division
By simple sweet collide
What's made in supple splendor
That caters to complex delights
We walk barefooted
We walk upon stones
Tettering on the brink
Falling through the threshold
Makes chaos tender sweet
Condenses the sweetness held in swollen cheek
That makes for perversely satsifying drink
Not to be shared, but savored selfishly
Calming and cool, bringing about a quiet rhapsody
That lingers between bouts of insanity
Made all the more delectable
Made all the more discreet
Even as it threatens to separate us
We foolishly surrender beneath its delicious leak.

Copyright © Bianca Jones | Year Posted 2013

Details | Bianca Jones Poem

Must

So that you are left barely a person
Near inhuman, but just...
Mind and body wrecked with havoc
Trying to persuade people that you are still who you once were
They fail to believe-
     To remember that you are
     To remember who you are
And in remembering, mind turns cheek a pale, bitter pink
So flinches the upward turned palm
That makes humility seem flawed
Purposeless and incomplete
Fading, one must, in and out of sleep
Just to be sober enough to get on.

Copyright © Bianca Jones | Year Posted 2013

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