DU Phrase of the Week . Enter with Enthusiasm
David_Macleod said:A Picture of a Candle Flame
The poems was limned
by a digital art image, but
did the words illuminate the picture
or was the picture portrayed by the words
the balance on such a piece is invaluable
and the two were completely complimentary
words and art in harmony.
Very nice David
Just beautiful
Thank you V
The poems was limned
by a digital art image, but
did the words illuminate the picture
or was the picture portrayed by the words
the balance on such a piece is invaluable
and the two were completely complimentary
words and art in harmony.
Very nice David
Just beautiful
Thank you V
MaryWalker said:http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/400445-faux-blown-lesbo/
Sorry, didn't want to give the thread an EC Warning. :/
Mareee, Mary
Great piece!
er,umm awesome write 
Sorry, didn't want to give the thread an EC Warning. :/
Mareee, Mary
Great piece!
er,umm awesome write 
Sempiternal
today my mind and I visited
the emerald grass
of my grandmother’s yard;
its surface pregnant with moisture
and waxy, like my jelly shoes -
though the sound of them
rubbing together
sets off waves of goosebumps;
popsicles on sensitive teeth
in the Florida sun
(inside the house
with its always dusty,
bare-vinyl floors;
dark to keep the heat
at bay ~ windows open,
the breeze one millimeter
above hot and stale -
box fans quietly rattling
against the table’s shiny surface
comforting, that sound
the children are somewhere,
~they know better than to be
anywhere
they ain’t allowed~
the women gather around
to gossip about
those unlucky enough
to have missed today’s
court session)
Mimi was a beautiful woman,
before she made the choices
that forever separated her
from herself -
thick wavy hair,
liquid midnight
down her back;
olive skin, a gift
from the Blackfeet;
exotic
and not an inch over 5’2”
“No one wants to tangle
with your Mama”,
my dad would say proudly;
I often wonder how
he could have missed
the rage behind her smile -
her perfect teeth holding back
daggers
cushioned in the shade
on my bed of soft lawn,
I can see her through the window;
she is laughing, mouth open
head back;
her eyes twinkling
full of fire and sly smiles;
she played dumb to keep peace
but she couldn’t hide
her slick humor
she brought me cantaloupe,
cut in half, seeds scooped out
smoothing my hair -
raven as her own;
our matching eyes of onyx,
murky irises, unreadable
in the shade
I was hers
she snapped a picture
with her brand new
Polaroid camera;
I was sad she didn’t
use the flash -
I loved the burned boxes
I held that photograph of her
for far longer
than she ever resembled it ~
I wanted to believe
in forever;
but you and I know
by now
nothing ever is
...except, perhaps
love
a choice, a verb
not lust or admiration,
not even respect or adoration
holds the cosmos’ attention
the way we do when we
decide
Intention is sempiternal;
it is everything
I have let go
finally
of that moment
whereby I defined her
without accepting
the whole of her
and all that remains
is
here,
now
resting
in the lush peace
of my grandmother’s yard,
listening to my mother laugh
the emerald grass
of my grandmother’s yard;
its surface pregnant with moisture
and waxy, like my jelly shoes -
though the sound of them
rubbing together
sets off waves of goosebumps;
popsicles on sensitive teeth
in the Florida sun
(inside the house
with its always dusty,
bare-vinyl floors;
dark to keep the heat
at bay ~ windows open,
the breeze one millimeter
above hot and stale -
box fans quietly rattling
against the table’s shiny surface
comforting, that sound
the children are somewhere,
~they know better than to be
anywhere
they ain’t allowed~
the women gather around
to gossip about
those unlucky enough
to have missed today’s
court session)
Mimi was a beautiful woman,
before she made the choices
that forever separated her
from herself -
thick wavy hair,
liquid midnight
down her back;
olive skin, a gift
from the Blackfeet;
exotic
and not an inch over 5’2”
“No one wants to tangle
with your Mama”,
my dad would say proudly;
I often wonder how
he could have missed
the rage behind her smile -
her perfect teeth holding back
daggers
cushioned in the shade
on my bed of soft lawn,
I can see her through the window;
she is laughing, mouth open
head back;
her eyes twinkling
full of fire and sly smiles;
she played dumb to keep peace
but she couldn’t hide
her slick humor
she brought me cantaloupe,
cut in half, seeds scooped out
smoothing my hair -
raven as her own;
our matching eyes of onyx,
murky irises, unreadable
in the shade
I was hers
she snapped a picture
with her brand new
Polaroid camera;
I was sad she didn’t
use the flash -
I loved the burned boxes
I held that photograph of her
for far longer
than she ever resembled it ~
I wanted to believe
in forever;
but you and I know
by now
nothing ever is
...except, perhaps
love
a choice, a verb
not lust or admiration,
not even respect or adoration
holds the cosmos’ attention
the way we do when we
decide
Intention is sempiternal;
it is everything
I have let go
finally
of that moment
whereby I defined her
without accepting
the whole of her
and all that remains
is
here,
now
resting
in the lush peace
of my grandmother’s yard,
listening to my mother laugh
Written by LunaGreyhawk
Go To Page
Sempiternal
today my mind and I visited
the emerald grass
of my grandmother’s yard;
its surface pregnant with moisture
and waxy, like my jelly shoes -
though the sound of them
rubbing together
sets off waves of goosebumps;
popsicles on sensitive teeth
in the Florida sun
(inside the house
with its always dusty,
bare-vinyl floors;
dark to keep the heat
at bay ~ windows open,
the breeze one millimeter
above hot and stale -
box fans quietly rattling
against the table’s shiny surface
comforting, that sound
the children are somewhere,
~they know better than to be
anywhere
they ain’t allowed~
the women gather around
to gossip about
those unlucky enough
to have missed today’s
court session)
Mimi was a beautiful woman,
before she made the choices
that forever separated her
from herself -
thick wavy hair,
liquid midnight
down her back;
olive skin, a gift
from the Blackfeet;
exotic
and not an inch over 5’2”
“No one wants to tangle
with your Mama”,
my dad would say proudly;
I often wonder how
he could have missed
the rage behind her smile -
her perfect teeth holding back
daggers
cushioned in the shade
on my bed of soft lawn,
I can see her through the window;
she is laughing, mouth open
head back;
her eyes twinkling
full of fire and sly smiles;
she played dumb to keep peace
but she couldn’t hide
her slick humor
she brought me cantaloupe,
cut in half, seeds scooped out
smoothing my hair -
raven as her own;
our matching eyes of onyx,
murky irises, unreadable
in the shade
I was hers
she snapped a picture
with her brand new
Polaroid camera;
I was sad she didn’t
use the flash -
I loved the burned boxes
I held that photograph of her
for far longer
than she ever resembled it ~
I wanted to believe
in forever;
but you and I know
by now
nothing ever is
...except, perhaps
love
a choice, a verb
not lust or admiration,
not even respect or adoration
holds the cosmos’ attention
the way we do when we
decide
Intention is sempiternal;
it is everything
I have let go
finally
of that moment
whereby I defined her
without accepting
the whole of her
and all that remains
is
here,
now
resting
in the lush peace
of my grandmother’s yard,
listening to my mother laugh
the emerald grass
of my grandmother’s yard;
its surface pregnant with moisture
and waxy, like my jelly shoes -
though the sound of them
rubbing together
sets off waves of goosebumps;
popsicles on sensitive teeth
in the Florida sun
(inside the house
with its always dusty,
bare-vinyl floors;
dark to keep the heat
at bay ~ windows open,
the breeze one millimeter
above hot and stale -
box fans quietly rattling
against the table’s shiny surface
comforting, that sound
the children are somewhere,
~they know better than to be
anywhere
they ain’t allowed~
the women gather around
to gossip about
those unlucky enough
to have missed today’s
court session)
Mimi was a beautiful woman,
before she made the choices
that forever separated her
from herself -
thick wavy hair,
liquid midnight
down her back;
olive skin, a gift
from the Blackfeet;
exotic
and not an inch over 5’2”
“No one wants to tangle
with your Mama”,
my dad would say proudly;
I often wonder how
he could have missed
the rage behind her smile -
her perfect teeth holding back
daggers
cushioned in the shade
on my bed of soft lawn,
I can see her through the window;
she is laughing, mouth open
head back;
her eyes twinkling
full of fire and sly smiles;
she played dumb to keep peace
but she couldn’t hide
her slick humor
she brought me cantaloupe,
cut in half, seeds scooped out
smoothing my hair -
raven as her own;
our matching eyes of onyx,
murky irises, unreadable
in the shade
I was hers
she snapped a picture
with her brand new
Polaroid camera;
I was sad she didn’t
use the flash -
I loved the burned boxes
I held that photograph of her
for far longer
than she ever resembled it ~
I wanted to believe
in forever;
but you and I know
by now
nothing ever is
...except, perhaps
love
a choice, a verb
not lust or admiration,
not even respect or adoration
holds the cosmos’ attention
the way we do when we
decide
Intention is sempiternal;
it is everything
I have let go
finally
of that moment
whereby I defined her
without accepting
the whole of her
and all that remains
is
here,
now
resting
in the lush peace
of my grandmother’s yard,
listening to my mother laugh
Written by LunaGreyhawk
Go To Page
Everlasting
Forged with unity
Devotion beyond compare
Sempiternal love
Devotion beyond compare
Sempiternal love
Written by Wh1skeySwagger
(Swagger)
Go To Page
Everlasting
Forged with unity
Devotion beyond compare
Sempiternal love
Devotion beyond compare
Sempiternal love
Written by Wh1skeySwagger
(Swagger)
Go To Page
