In rows of citrus trees the workers tend
My fam’ly’s enterprise a century.
Among Valencia where I would fend,
And since I came of age they all could see—
The girl-turned-woman child is like an orange,
With flesh as smooth & scented of its bloom.
Don’t ever taste the skin of burnished orb;
Must leave the tree, deny of its perfume.
They also knew the foreman had his sight
To pluck the succulent from off the tree.
He could not reckon such a dare would bite,
How willingly to tempt the Fates was he.
Yet to his nerve & swagger I was drawn
In spite the station of my pedigree.
And so it was one day at break of d
You think that water is the color blue,
That ocean currents imitate the wind.
And where it ends beyond the height of clouds,
That’s where the sky of me will turn to black
Where neither air nor astronauts may live.
Yes I’m the sky and all the rest is air.
If not for me there’d be no atrium,
To hold within the weather and the rain
From where the cumulus and stratus play.
The teeming life that feeds on coral beds,
The orca pods who prey on lesser whales,
As porpoise with their echos guide their young.
The snow on summits where no birds can reach.
The forest at its base, bears hibernate.
The sockeye who ret
(a nursery tale)
Near a sleek interstate of the new Now
Of Today’s city glass towers’ gleam,
From the day’s perfect rise of Know How,
And Tomorrow of manicured dreams:
Stood the sprawl of an old shanty town
Where lush trees & green grass never grew;
Shown no mercy; a dry trodden frown
Like the tough shanty dwellers it drew.
But for all of a dirty-faced soul
Passing time in the cardboard & shake,
Moved an odd, mystic child of the shoal
Picking mussels & shells for the take.
And the name, Periwinkle, or Jill,
Who's dark days of childhood were a
There’s sometimes —
When the coffee flows
When the showers fall,
And I don’t feel a thing.
‘Cause that’s when —
You would reach for me
When I hear you call,
And I’m remembering.
It’s that time —
Then I feel the eyes
Of a summer’s night,
Peering through autumn’s spring.
Taking me —
Through the years ago
In a lover’s flight,
Longing to hear you sing.
You know that
Love’s a case of hit and miss —
When the moon is high
When the sun is low,
And sometimes, baby
I need more words than this.
There comes a time
When lovers are just friends without a means.
It’s not too long
Before you find romance is just a scene.
Becomes a fact that steals all your dreams.
And then they die
When you believe there’s nothing in between...
You make me ecstatic —
Even when I’m feelin’ sad
Just because I know the truth.
You got me ecstatic —
Desperation setting in,
Has no bite without a tooth.
You spell out ecstatic —
In the dictionary there’s
A picture just like you.
I feel you, ecstatic —
Taking over me and there’s
Just nothing I can do...
( a Sonnet )
🎼A boy dropped in a dime and chose B2,
The bubbles in the juke lit up the place.
He grabbed his date & show’d me what to do,
I swayed with love’s abandon on my face.
🎼To hear our favorite song for the first time,;
’Twas never meant to be the one we heard.
To dance w’ perfect guy in perfect rhyme,
I listen’d to, lip-syncing ev’ry word.
🎼The way he studied me in like was such;
He loved the way the music fill’d my dress.
We moved around without a single touch;
A curious reaction nonetheless.
🎼We often change the words of how it’s sung;
This song wi
Loosen’d bondage, silken laces,
Sin in hallow’d satin places,
Tender kisses tasting traces
From her lover’s oral graces.
Drifting dunes like sandy beaches,
What he wants of her he reaches.
In the scent & shade of peaches
Is the sermon that she preaches.
Leaning forward gently touching
Trails of salty tears of weeping.
Render’d lover I am dreaming;
Moon has secret, am I sleeping?
As his breath meets w’ her sighing,
Pressing closest, deepest finding;
Yes, my love, you have me flying
As the moon, with us, is rising.
(With a smattering of Alphabetical Alliterations)
THE BARNSTABLE STOCK & TRADE
(Founded circa: 1822) $1.25 US, $1.62 CAN/a copy.
Circulation: 8,703. Add 12 more if you count the cardboard settlement on the river bottom under the 4th Street bridge.
Today’s forecast was set for hot. This evening will be less hot.
There’ll be a quarter moon on the wane. Tomorrow’s first light will be at 5:32AM.
Bringing you the latest in our daily evening special edition.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Some of you might still be wondering why we went exclusively evening last month. Here
It’s ev’ry month I come collect my pay
For po’ems I submit each thirty days,
With bottle caps’ & buttons’ colors gay
I bank inside a jar and hide away.
And when it’s time I add a little more,
Then jog into the DA general store
To parlay w’ the clerk what I can score
Who smiles & asks me what the rush is for.
I say there is no time for me to waste,
Apologizing for my shopper’s haste.
I need to buy a toothbrush I misplaced
To rid my teeth of food I still can taste.
But tell me of your specials for the day
I can avail, and then I must away.
“I’ve china glass that chi
The honey-nut variety
From half a dozen of its ilk.
Just bone dry without any milk,
No almond, soy or coconut.
I honestly can’t say the words.
I’m eating it like raisin turds.
There goes one flying by my face,
I tried to toss it, missed a space.
I’ll never find it on the rug,
These bastards do me like a drug!
And 6 months later, petrified,
I’ll find it laying where it died.
It tried committing suicide,
With other brothers mummified.
It’s really gross, I’ll relocate
Just ‘cause of something that I ate.
I’ll catch my death because I froze
In my car eating Cheerios!
where e'er you may live
be the spirit of the wind
for both young & old
take care of each one
who has touched your heart & soul
and has lifted you
free one from anguish
the year was grim for many
that one will free you
my simple wishes
like smooth pebbles on the shore
come and be the wave
take these pebbles for
creatures that run, fly and swim
they carry you too
for the plants and trees
and know that earth will thank you
with the air we breathe
both the rain that falls
and the snow on mountain peaks
be the clouds that guide
while the shadows pass
be the seagull's lonely cry
I wore a yellow dress my first night in
the social whirl of the City of Light.
J'ai porté une robe jaune pour ma première nuit dans
le tourbillon social de la Ville Lumière.
To shine where love's one night stand would see me
because I was too naive to notice.
Briller une nuit là où l’amour me verrait
car j'étais trop naïve pour le remarquer.
I walked in satin pumps with heels so high
my ankles shivered even though
the evening was warm, and I had no wrap.
J'ai marché dans des souliers de satin avec de si hauts talons
mes chevilles ont frissonné même si
la soirée était chaud
Her great-great grandmother was the first,
An original of the Nation, of
Her people, of her village in her youth.
The men were ever awed of this girl child,
Whose mother was proud, and whacked the backsides
Often and hard with a willow switch,
Of man and boy, no matter what their name
Be it Dog, or Bear, or something more rare
Like Hunts Plenty, or Runs Down Enemy.
Nothing came close to the Chief's daughter's name
That came to everyone's voice with the dawn.
And as a young woman, her stride across
The camp in leggings fringed while going through
The pony herd to bathe, and well aware
Of those who would hide in wai
Sounds of my frantic sandal'd footsteps
on the flat-stone and gravel road with
each lunge of my linen-clad body,
in agony from efforts and gasps.
This citizen's grown fat from the wine;
a bottle a day, respectably,
and out of shape for this sort of clime.
My slave's in Herculaneum by now.
The fumes are sucked deep into my lungs,
(an artisan's bellows of his craft,
who's hands shaped clay for the kiln's fire)
as sky blackens day in its nightmare.
While those of us who still can, jostle
like jockeys, racing closer towards the
horseshoe bay's shoreline where boats await.
While overhead, the solemn silent
silt of ash floating down, white as s
The cousins of our home, the trees
Have man to thank upon their knees
For over time destroying all
That trees were guarding from the fall.
Of how they kept the history
From turning into mystery
Within the rings their bodies stored,
The loss of which we can't afford.
Despite the treasure trove of trees,
The high rise place for birds & bees,
The gentle giants' ev'ry breath
Gives humans life instead of death.
But human kind since biblical
Have long cut the umbilical.
For idol gods & sacrifice
Man laid them waste for war & vice.
Though often living side by side
While giving food & rest abide,
So few would heed th
Lawd, that boy had a set on him,
Eatin' corn through a picket fence
If he had half a mind to try.
Followin' the breeze of my skirt,
He watched me sidle up the steps,
And come close to seein' Christmas.
He'd mutter underneath his breath,
"I'd run with the big dawgs for you."
And ev'er time I'd let him near,
That's just exactly what he'd do
When it'd come time to kissin' me.
Each time, be dissin' family.
And that's the way it was with us.
It wasn't clear just who knew what,
But ev'er cousin and their blood
Was bound to cross the line just once.
Well-meaning, interfering folk
Was always pullin' us aside,
"No right to carry on that way
In the middle of night before,
I awoke to the sound of rain
In what seemed like a sated roar
Of their deep voices, of their stain.
'Twas a dream in my half-aware,
I questioned its validity.
Then dozed off like it wasn't there,
This weather-beaten mystery.
Then yesterday passed like my thoughts,
Adrift, clouds hid daylight away.
I watched what the weather had wrought,
Then fell back to sleep where I lay.
The afternoon walked in on me
And claimed "It's been raining, y'know."
I vaguely looked over to see,
And murmured "I want you to go."
The day turned away as it sighed,
Night's engorged corpse's maw spews forth
Sudden rider's dread appearance
As its steed's terror arch and pitch
Overwhelms with stench of sulfur,
In voices deep & black as death,
As if from ev'ry host and storm,
Resound in ancient glory raised,
'Tis I, the rider, back from Time:
"Beware, it will be ever known
That I am Devil, Satan's own,
Of Lucifer's originals.
Of those who fell to follow him
And pass it on to souls like you,
That his is Truth, the Way, the Life
Fore'er in death and well beyond.
That I, his Messenger elect,
Am but the only one who comes,
Not what was told would be the Ch
They rattle through the aged house,
The echoed calls through arteries.
The labyrinth leading from its bowels,
The iron heating in the core
Where beat its heart now long gone cold.
But as the autumn and the rain
Is rolling through and sinking in
To claim the rafters and the walls,
Was how the rattle came to be,
The autumn whistling down the halls.
But what of all the guests who stayed
When holidays would welcome them,
To sample of its luxuries?
The strolls through gardens manicured,
The games played on the emerald lawn.
Then came the evenings' dining fare
Of duck and quall and Guinea fowl,
The village folk had duly made
A worthy build of lumber stacked
At center place of public square
Where all who came would see her there.
A woman not of tender years
But comely handsome in her prime.
Her flowing hair, the crucifix,
Would soon be smold'ring candle wicks.
And as the morning sun arose
The prisoner, escorted thus
Was jeered at by the jostled crowd
That started chanting, each aloud:
"Burn the witch! Burn the witch!" they said,
"Stoke flames until she's proper dead!"
The woman robed in black did bow
Before her arms and torso tied
To limbless tree trunk, tall & straight
That held her to a burning fate.
The village broke out in a
It's DeviantArt's 18th Birthday, and we want to celebrate with you. Check out our festive challenge and Artist Evolution Spotlight to see how you can get involved AND how to get our special Birthday Badge!
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18th BirthdayArtist Evolution
On August 7th, eighteen years ago, DeviantArt opened its digital doors to bring artists and art enthusiasts from around the globe together. From that day forward, we set out to entertain, inspire, and empower the artist in all of us. No matter where you are on your artistic journey — whether you joined 18 minutes, months, or years ago — we're proud to be
:wave: Hey guys! As promised, here is the overall "Best Of" edition for NaPo 2018. :la: Note, some of these may be repeats as some pieces I featured previously are ones I just want to show again. Also, some people may show up more than once. I want to try to include poems from everyone who submitted, so I hope I manage to get everyone in. I'm literally scrolling through every folder and reading to see what strikes me, or what I remember finding striking in the past month. At any rate, you know what to do. :heart:
Best of NaPoWriMo 2018:
:lmao: Sorry for such a LOOOONG feature. But I wanted to end it with a bang. :heart:
Also, the deadline
Here you go guys :heart: You know the drill.
Best of NaPo: Week 4
I'll be posting a "Best of NaPo 2018" overall edition this week as well, so keep your eyes peeled for that.
Here you go :giggle: Now that Week 2 AND 3 are now posted, we're all caught up.
Quick note! Don't forget, if you're trying to participate in the NaPo Commenting Contest (which honestly you should) any pieces featured on Challenge winner journals AND pieces featured in my weekly "Best Of" (like this one) count for double points. So keep that in mind. If you do comment on these for that purpose, try to remember to star those when you note the group with your comments at the end of the month!
For more info, see here: NaPo Comment Contest!
You know the drill! Take a gander and show some love below. :heart:
Best of NaPo: Week 3
I will do a
I guess I didn't do a "Best of Week 2?" :lmao: Like, I could have sworn I did. :faint: So! I will post Week 2 right now, and I will do Week 3 tomorrow. Also, to make up for this I'll try to make both features longer this time :) And maybe by then I will find where my brain went. :lol:
Quick note! Don't forget, if you're trying to participate in the NaPo Commenting Contest (which honestly you should) any pieces featured on Challenge winner journals AND pieces featured in my weekly "Best Of" (like this one) count for double points. So keep that in mind. If you do comment on these for that purpose, try to remember to star those when you note
Spring - Summer - Autumn - Winter - New Year - Rainy - Dry
The fall of the year is not merely the fall of the leaves but the fall of the vital powers in all natural things including man. We feel it in ourselves and are thus and thus only able to see it in things outside.
The Milky Way is most clearly seen and deeply felt in this month, but it is the Moon that is the soul of autumn. The sun we take for granted, but the Moon, in its remote nearness, its silent-smiling light, deepens the mystery of our own life. The wind of autumn also has a different voice from that of any other season; we can hear perhaps the rustle of deat
Spring - Summer - Autumn - Winter - New Year - Rainy - Dry
Early Spring - Midspring - Late Spring
Seasonal - Celestial - Terrestrial - Humanity - Observances - Plants - Animals
In spring, mist and haze hang over fields and hills, both morning and evening. Days are long, compared to those of winter, and there is much wind in the day-time, wind that is motion itself and the cause of motion in others. Winter is the season of silence, but when spring comes, not only waters in fields and valleys but skylarks in the blue heaven and birds in the groves fill the air with cheerful sounds. The uguisu, or Japanese Bush-Warbler is a
Hello dear & thank you... it was a quiet one this year. And wherever I am, I still keep writing. i‘m considering posting poetry here again. The place has changed so much in every way. Even down to the black walls... very parallel worlds. :)