Go to page:

Three word inspiration.

poet
AEMelia564
Y
Dangerous Mind
Norway
30awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 20th Apr 2016
Forum Posts: 1506

Searching spirits
how they chant
over lakes
Across seas
soaring through
Skies of rubies
Their wicked
laughter touched
barren fields
Occult opus
sing me
not


Vase
bleak
door

poet
dejure
vick
Dangerous Mind
17awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 17th Aug 2015
Forum Posts: 1770

bleak lands
covered by
a mist reeks
of the dead

while the chants
still hum inside
the wood house

"a slight squeak"

on a table
a vase with,
a dead rose
is seen through
the half opened
door



cloak
rust
water


poet
Grace
Idryad
Guardian of Shadows
101awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 11809

their story was all cloak and dagger
going out in the night and meeting
knowing there was always danger
of being found out

all the tension was not good
for their love and togetherness
it seemed that rust settled in
their iron will

soon all promises to be true
was like water under the bridge
and they parted ways
heart broken at the crossroads
of their life


amicable, ghosts, ghouls

poet
archetype23
Dangerous Mind
United States
2awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 5th Oct 2013
Forum Posts: 3292

I like your poem FrigidDorm. hardcore write

poet
Grace
Idryad
Guardian of Shadows
101awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 11809

his divorce from her was amicable
they still met each other for drinks

then she died and he was lost
he was merely existing without her
he listened to ghosts gibbering
and laughjng at his sorrow

there were like ghouls
eating up his feelings
until he couldn't help
but thought of death.

Lingering, languishing, depression

poet
lepperochan
Craic-in-a-box
Tyrant of Words
63awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 1st Apr 2011
Forum Posts: 11633

Christy said
he'd felt like an old ballon
with mild depression

you know
the progression of such things
will  have it
a limp spent spectical
til a pair of lips
blows some air back into it

I told him he was lucky
to have a pair of lips handy
and his smile stayed lingering
because he knew it was true

I went home
and watered the cactus
just in case it was languishing
for the want of water
and I hadn't noticed

personable, society, blood

poet
Quill-in-Heart
Tony Pena
Fire of Insight
United States
11awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 6th Dec 2012
Forum Posts: 1037

Personable to those living
on the fringes of society
with questionable taste
in character and a lust
to feast on the blood
of those they feel
are unworthy of sharing
the table with them.

dance ,  milk,  shame  
 

poet
lepperochan
Craic-in-a-box
Tyrant of Words
63awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 1st Apr 2011
Forum Posts: 11633

let's dance, he said
so I obliged
and went rubber
with the rest of the people  

let my limbs
do quare things

..no shame in it

no shame
to let go
lock it out
or cast it
through fingertips
to the beat of it

( I could go on
  but I feel
  I'd milk it )

 [ milk what
 I may hear you say
 and it might be
 a very good question]


bolt,  contraband, city
 

poet
Grace
Idryad
Guardian of Shadows
101awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 11809

She didn't understand a word
he said
all she heard was the word 'bolt'
what did he mean
Usain bolt
bolt the door
bolt of cloth...?
she shrugged

she was not interested in his shout
or his extreme hurry to leave
she knew he had contraband goods
with him...but what...diamonds?

she was new in the city
it looked like the movie version
of Gotham
if Penguin walked out of the gloom
she wouldn't be surprise at all.


navigator, instigate, revolution


poet
Jestalessa
Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom
33awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 27th July 2010
Forum Posts: 2302

"don't do it, boy"

think you've always been above
that ring you put on her finger
and i never understood why she trusted you again
enough to let you strap her with a second one
while you hide yours under the bar

you're not subtle, navigator
spilling intentions to your friends
messages in the dark
kiss kiss, extra for a
"my bad"
-no thanks
don't need a lift home tonight

i try to brush it off like
you're not an instigator
benefits only of the doubts

but you know better
than to let her go home alone, after
her taking in your revolution
on her OJs 'n' lemonade
to let the dogs out, read the farmer's news
and grow your child as she sleeps
while you stay on
drinking yourself to enough confidence
to search out a little more
in someone else's bed

she loves those rings
you gave her for her heart
doesn't see them tight yet
around her ankles
or her wrists
the ones darkened 'round her eyes

she's a good girl
a gentle one


don't do it, boy
don't break her


riot, belligerent, exhausted

poet
Jestalessa
Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom
33awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 27th July 2010
Forum Posts: 2302

lepperochan said:let's dance, he said
so I obliged
and went rubber
with the rest of the people  

let my limbs
do quare things

..no shame in it

no shame
to let go
lock it out
or cast it
through fingertips
to the beat of it

( I could go on
  but I feel
  I'd milk it )

 [ milk what
 I may hear you say
 and it might be
 a very good question]
 



oh, the laughs i laughed......i must not be able to face reality...

poet
Miss_Sub
- Missy -
Tyrant of Words
United Kingdom
67awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 26th June 2011
Forum Posts: 5562

riot, belligerent, exhausted

Jacob's Ladder

He smoked belligerent cigarettes,
burned his bridges as a mantra
to not let the sun crawl too close
to his smouldering blood

sometimes, I believed
he was born by the river
screaming exhausted ash
into water, weathered
by it's destruction

maybe he'd never truly learned
to be alone; maybe the riots
he invoked where a blanket
to hide the echo of emptiness
that climbed out of him:

clouds rising from lungs,
perfectly cut parallels of pain,
the death of Sunday morning's

true ascension


Factual, museum, triangle


poet
RevolutionAL
vibididibbidydibbidyho
Fire of Insight
South Africa
15awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 24th July 2012
Forum Posts: 682


Museum, Triangle, Factual




<worlds longest tit-le>
apple a day keeps doctor away, but it also is the wrath of hell if you bite into it, in a garden.
<end worlds longest tit-le>


jesus, according to legends
in museum books
born under the brightest of beautiful stars 
lit Jerusalem 
made her a breathless-moment 
of bright-light 
surrounded in rich technicolor rainbows 

that angel, that spoke to wise men 
must have been a pretty-wise 
angel 
he was half in heaven, half in hell 
when he appeared 
he must have wanted to burn those wise men, that gifted up the silent night 
he must have been wanting a crown 
while announcing; the next crown 
he must have thought he deserved the black wings 
(face it, the previous caretaker of fire and lust couldn't have done such a good job, 
if this child was born)

new world order's very first love triangle

jesus according to legend lived a full life 
without 
banishing that angel who sat in that star that night. 


i ask you 
i ask you angel 
i ask you angel, in high heels, suspenders and soft velvet panties 
i ask you angel, with tears in my eyes 

"where were you, on the day of crucifixion, 
where was that bright shiny star? 
where were you when 
blood spilled 
over steel nails and wood?" 

had he come to remove you 
banish your kind from his temple? 
was that
the real purpose of the birth 
that first christmas day? 

had you become santa clause 
bearing gifts for only one day 
going home to the ice 
everytime you 
hear
factual, aint satisfactual? 

or was it time?
time for an angel
to pack up his wings and quietly walk away?


-x-



Mutch like an orgasm once I got started, I just went on & on & on





Examination, Wings, Flawsome




poet
Miss_Sub
- Missy -
Tyrant of Words
United Kingdom
67awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 26th June 2011
Forum Posts: 5562

Examination, wings, flawsome

Openings

When you tear off the band-aid,
you do it quickly, swiftly ripping
the attachment of body
from it's second skin
because you're afraid of pain.

After examination, you
can't help but touch the wound,
the bulbous lines of humanity
reddened with failure,
the crusting blots of recovery;
small victories in their own right

and sometimes you pick at them,
scratching your dark melancholy
and watch them open like wings,
a flawsome display of integrity
to an audience of one.

These marks, these scars
are teachers filling your blood
with empathy, filling your silence
with interpretation, filling your skin
with all the words you cannot

and will not say.


Obituary, harp, cloud



poet
KDAmB
Tyrant of Words
Australia
13awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 5th Sep 2014
Forum Posts: 6319

No clouds under me
no harping virgins to greet
my obituray

grace, aghast, elliptical

Go to page:
Go to: