[x]

VI. PoetryPoetry.

Poetry is the blood
That makes my veins spring
It is the life that escapes
In the big broth of my efforts
It is my way of behaving
To fight the hatred
It is to refuse to undergo
It is my human nature

It is my way to quiver
Words, like some tunes.

It will break its chains
These chains of incoherence
These chains of ignorance
These chains where from freedom
Dance
The emotional
Trances.

Out of our fearful wanderings
The exceptional appears
Fighting mirrors
Flowers of unfaithful rows
Making the immanence spring
Smiling the reality
Far from the artillery which think
Of their subtleties
Impose our pace
Make roar o

III. Wild loveWild love

Wild love
Lick the shiver
In your beauty
Lemony bark.
Disturb my senses
Burn my lightning
On your burning flash of lighting
Hurt me in a fury!
Of love on them
Ashes of desire.
Of the excited madness
In the streams of kisses
I drift on your frenzy
Roaring to die from it
It is my body in fury
Which enjoys on your drunkenness
In the corolla of your breast.

V. Poetic hymnPoetic hymn.

While imagination takes shape,
At the bottom of a spirit, creativity,
Sometimes win by its originality,
Or the authenticity of pure feeling,
And touches the poetry of the heart.

With sound words,
About the wealth of the style,
The instinctive hatching of talent,
Made relive the purity of language,
Towards the correctness
where the rhythm harmonizes.

So be free in the expression,
Give to the writing an alchemy,
That touches the silence of a soul.

But under the impulses of moderation,
The shocking dreams are banned,
Such a sepulchre of an illustrious unknown artist,
Where the work dies on

VII. Without daring to say a word.Without daring to say a word.

There are fragile words
Which form outlines
Of a vulnerable life.

In the autumn colors
Disturbed by the noise
Of the rain on windows.

At the end of the day, the somber
Reality becomes a burden.

This woman is invaded by anxiety
Her tired spirit, on the alarming
Silence of the language, is slowly
Dying on this kiss of the other one.

He, who believes with his smile
To understand everything
by watching at her crying.

He, with his stupid words, he hammers
The commonness with his unsightly facies,
His absent glance in front of her who doubts
In the gust of feelings.

Quiet, he falls

I AMI am me, I am free.
I'm not myself today.
I'm stuck in between worlds
Of reality and fantasy.
Up, down
Right, wrong.

I am happy, I am free.
I'm down in the dumps type of "blue"
When nothing ever goes right.
I piss and moan
About how life could be if I were free from restraints.
You couldn't survive in my shoes could you?

I am, I am..
I know what I'm not.
I'm not who you and I want me to be.
I'm not where I need to be.
Right here in the here and now.
Life is just not what it's ever made out to be, overrated.

Only GlassMy body made of glass
I teeter on the edge of that terrifying
cliff.
How can I avoid this dark,
gruesome ending?
I scream for help
as I tip further forward,
but no one hears my
wanton
cries.
All efforts made would be
futile.
Alas,
I have served them well,
I
thought
now
plummeting
to
my
demise.

Yet,
to my pleasant
surprise
a hand reaches
from the deep cavern of my death,
saving my fragile form from sure horrible pain
and mortification.
I laugh and silently,
having no true lips to speak,
thank my wonderful savior
as they press my brim
to their lips
for a light

Loyal to RoyalSon cries for toys,
When his stick-figured mother tries to tell,
Luxuries are loyal to royal

WAITING FOR THE ASHESThe night engulfs her fleeting
paths, while crimson twilights
hover by her fingertips.

Then prowls the beast

her ashes awaiting
to turn into fire

once more.

Frantz, january / february 2013

French freestyle version

Elle a
des crépuscules pourpres
s'attardant au bout des doigts
quelques lignes de fuite
englouties par
la nuit

Alors rôde la bête

de ses propres mains
il lui faut tourner encor
les cendres

en feu

Inside The FoldsFingertips inside the folds
Like a flower, burst of color.
Pink flesh bleeding
Mind racing
Body pacing
Yet still as can be.
Lost inside the sheets
Musty with man
Sweetness of bitch
Scent.

Sweat rolls down back
Leaving innards in tact
Attacking the heart
Lost in tug of war
Body craving touches
While mind screaming.
Constant turning
Stomach churning
I cannot let go
Be free.

Heaving of breast
Is this a test?
Smile within a smile
Fold within a fold
Rain droplets forming
Across smooth surface.
Eyes shut tight
Vision of lights
You are but a blur
That I crave more to feel.

StormlightJagged, writhing bolts
Bundles of concussive force
A thrumming crash
A flurry of fleeting footsteps
Gazing upon vistas of unfolding power
Transfixed by light
The Earth trembles
Listening

Droplets platter gently on
Glazed windows and eyes
A tremulous caress
Fingers tracing glass
Hot flesh on glass panes are
Numb

Heartbeats captured by
Small ears compressed
Pregnant and trembling with aquatic tension
Poised at the precipice till
Lashes of moistened wind-

Push!
Contorting
Push!
Straining

Raindrops embrace and
Unbind to race out of sight
Trailing…

Twisted filaments plummeting
There!--A small intake of breath then

The HeartThe heart knows
Pain, sadness
Despair.
But most of all
Love, compassion,
Happiness.

It knows good and evil.
Right from wrong.
But it does not
Care to choose
One or the
Other.

The heart can break
Into bitter pieces
But it can be strong,
Unyielding.
It does not know when to
Stop.

BewildermentAll I ever wanted was to feel you inside of me
In the nooks and crannies of my mind,
The voided blackness of my heart.
But I'm left with a vague sense of bewilderment.

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One should necessary make sacred the seals which pearl on our souls, those who, within endless spheres of influence, bounce in the thoughts of Life. One should necessary discolor the current of emotion, feed with care the sky which seems to weigh heavier. Laughing at every joint which decorates one thousand splendors, so does evaporate the useless, vanishes the pains, letting the spirit of humanity taste in the wealth of an existence signed by a serene breath.

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IX. I am a poet

by ~SerenePoet, Nov 16, 2011, 3:01:05 AM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

I am a poet

    I am a poet
    I do regret,

    Young person without talent,
    Roaming in the wind

    My verses empty
    Themselves of their acid

    My feather sinks
    On a grey ground,

    Earth without ages,
    Roaming in the course of pages.

    I am a poet
    I do regret,

    Young person without talent,
    Roaming in the wind

    The moon is full
    I paint without trouble.

    And this night,
    Everything ran away

    My rhymes,
    My crimes,
    My verses,
    My earth,
    My prose,
    Symbiosis
    Of pain
    Of hatred
    My walls
    So rough,

    I lost everything …

    I am a poet
    I do regret,

    Young person without talent,
    Who roams in the wind.

IX. I am a poetby ~SerenePoet

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

©2011-2013 ~SerenePoet

A poet. A wall. Illusions.

Chapter 9.

~~wow 0 0~~

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*Diluculi Jun 29, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Hi there!
You have been featured here: [link]

(I whish I could speak french to understand the other poems...)

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Mood: Love

~heavenlytouch Mar 14, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Good one ! Short but it speaks !

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~love1008 Nov 22, 2011

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*williamfdevault Nov 21, 2011 Professional Writer

Beautiful, powerful imagery. Well done.

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*williamfdevault Nov 22, 2011 Professional Writer

oh no, blue roses. I have been a sucker for blue roses since the old film "the Blue Rose"...

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*Gary-thedreamingpoet Nov 19, 2011 Professional Writer

You are indeed a poet. Beautiful work

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