[x]

A Subtle DanceDusk falls with burgundy tears,
the glimmering of old chandeliers.
Frost collides with mercury light,
setting the scene of the night.

Amour is expressed within a song,
a ballad to move our bodies along.
The sensation of a silken gown
twirls with the sonorous sound.

A hint of perfection in your eyes
embraces the world in gentle sighs,
as fragments of ice melt into lace,
and velvet roses slip into place.

Another second of endless desire
envelops our hearts in silver fire.
A winter solstice oh so blessed,
a moment to never be repressed.

KitesSilent tyrant of the sky
Mind your obscure earthly string,
Though you accrue heaven's eye
Look oh rook, on what you cling.

Betwixt, unfixed the prairie cloud,
Above in love your brethren sing,
In gleam, they dream as diamonds proud
Which gown his crown; the golden king.

Chase the grace of cosmic joy,
Wild that child of crimson lust,
Rave, yet save his fury's toy;
Mirth in birth in truth is trust.

In time, to climb the sail does pine,
Despite its flight, or ambits crossed;
Uncrossed, now tossed, your cords entwine
And all the squall in bond is lost.

How the Phelps Failed His MissionEveryone
In the U.S.
Were a glad lot…

But the Phelps
Who lived in eastern Kansas,
Was NOT!

The Phelps loathed gays! The gay population!
Now, please don’t ask why. There is just speculation.
He might have seen them as a social deviance.
It could be he had a gay experience.
But I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that bitter hate had consumed him all.

But,
Whatever the reason,
The past or his hate,
He stood in his Kansas home, very irate.
Staring down from his sofa, with a sour, Phelps glare
At the love and tolerance that lighted the air.
For he knew every person in the country there
Was living and let live

Sight Beyond SightAye. I've seen her before
Skulking around the dim-dusty
Bookstores and empty coffee houses.
I've seen her before.

Her skin is mottled
Freckled and speckled with acne
And a poor self image.
Her teeth are off white
Like her arms, tanned from
Rolled up sleeves, freckly
And dusted with down.

Her eyes are fierce shining
A determined pout on her face.
She is beautiful in her own way.
Whiterose is an illusion,
A forgettable fantasy.
This is the true face of love.

A Small Cafe at MidnightA small cafe at midnight
is not where I should be,
dozing off in my seat
and drinking sugary coffee.

"Is this seat taken?" I hear,
and I glance up to see
the gorgeous face of a young woman.
She wants to sit with me?!

Dark brown curls are cascading
down her shoulders and back,
and her bright blue eyes shine
with the light that this place lacks.

"Go ahead and sit," I say,
but I am still confused.
Why would she sit here
with a guy like me? I muse.

A cup of coffee in her hand,
she smiles a tiny grin.
I gaze along with wonder
at her hair, her eyes, her skin...

This girl is truly perfect,
so why is she with me?
She's even talking and smiling;

A Poem For My Special Someone(ReadDescription 1st)Roses
are red
Violets are blue
Love never crossed my mind
Until the day I met you
You are so sweet
And so fine
I wish I had the guts to talk to you
Back in 2009
I've felt so lonely from the start
But that was before you stole my heart
If a kiss was a raindrop
I would give you a shower
If a hug was a second
I would give you an hour
I know we had little fights from the past
But we finally get over them at last
Everything I'm writing down is true
So here is another poem for you:
Plumbers are red
Hedgehogs are blue
Press the "Start" button
And be my player 2
This poem is getting really long
But it's easier to write than a cute,little love song
This poem is pretty cheesy but took a lot of time
To write about the piece I've been missing all my life

If I Could Take Your TearsIf I could say 'I love you'
If your heart were free
If you could see beyond blue
Then maybe you'd see me
But life and love are tangled
Hearts weave complex webs
Broken dreams are cradled
And live inside our heads
So from afar I watch you
Love silent in my heart
Unspoken words a virtue
Though they echo in the dark
Your laugh and smile I treasure
Your kindly words I'l store
And in innocence find pleasure
Sweet soul that I adore
And if perchance you see me
Discern the love I hide
Would rising passion free thee
To sail on sweeter tides?

Crimson's Fiery PassionFor why do you attract me with such ease?
The color of a fiery passion,
Could you be too eager to flirt and please?
This color gives attitude and fashion.
Your crimson locks are the utmost dashing.
The red compatible with your skin so fair
Personality quite strong and flaming
No one can begin to even compare.
Though you enjoy to go around and flirt,
You were and still are the most capricious.
We used to treat each other simply like dirt.
Yet now we are just like red, Flirtatious
Though in annoyance with your many passes
You told me “Take good care of the glasses”

ForsakingSolemn thoughts of days gone past,
The omnipresent thought of 'will this last?'
Constant doubt and heart wrenching worry
Thoughts adrift among the flurry.

This leap of faith
has me wondering how much I could take;
If maybe it doesn't work in the end,
how much heartbreak will you rend?

Still I can't say no
my desire has me in your throes.
Constant visions of future ways
have me quivering, the joy I can hardly contain.

For you I would forsake all things,
all aspiring towards Princes and kings.
All of this I would give up
just to be your one and only love.

Our Single DropThe raindrops patter on the back porch pane
To leave soft streams in their wake.
Rivulets so reminiscent run down,
Rivulets that some forsake.

As they race along the long glass window,
They can't see what they expend.
They travel the distance with fervid speed,
Though they wish not for its end.

They twist and turn on this short-lived path,
Never staying straight for long.
And while some will fade only halfway through,
Other raindrops will hold strong.

A tranquil puddle at the bottom forms
As the drops begin to pool.
I dip my hand in the miniature bath
And am woken with the cool.

It jolts nearly every sense alive;
I breathe deep to take it

Four A.M. Thoughts of YouThe clock read four A.M. in the morning,
And soon the sun will be adorning
The sky with the cheerful rays of its dawning
But I'm not even yawning.

I find myself with nothing to do
But feed myself with thoughts of you;
Replaying memories both old and new
As the sky took on a lighter hue.

The sky was suddenly set ablaze,
Clawing me from my dreamy haze
Into the daily morning craze—
Isn't life a never-ending maze?

DifferencesHe holds my hand
From across the bed,
While your memory whispers,
In my ear.
You are a ghost,
Inside my head,
But him...
He's really here.

He does not say a word,
But actions make their promises.
You speak in strings of verb and noun,
No truth among the sound.
He waits so patiently,
His heart it walks the premises.
Your memory pounds at the door,
Much less than honor bound.

He presses lips into a line,
Keeping the anger within.
You press your lips up to mine,
Pouring all your hatred in.

Our SheetsSoft kisses under sheets
where skin and warmth meets.
Relaxed inside and out to reach
from head, to the toes on my feet.

Quick glances and long stares,
neither of us wanting to go anywhere.
Perfectly happy staying right there.
What’s outside? To look we don’t dare.

You exhale and I breathe in
warm air, life of a friend.
Better than anywhere we’ve ever been.
Under sheets the light stays dim.

Lip to lip, just barely a flutter to me.
Sweet, warm and light instantly
seared to my heart like a memory.
Nothing could happen more perfectly.

Heartbeats soothe us to sleep.
Rhythmic secrets we swore to keep.
It’s easy when you

Lipsss

I found myself quiet a few times
Discovering your picture with my fingertips
And everytime without knowing
My finger stopped at your beautiful lips
Like perfectly crafted rubies
They are red, pure and glassy
Placed togather in a form of smile
Full of life and intents, sassy
Like your face is an vast ocean
Long lost were the two ships
Meant to meet at a certain point
In the form of your cherry lips
Like I was in a hot, dry desert
Dying of thirst, without water
But I found the red oasis
And I drank from your lips, the nectar
Like red the color of love
Affiliation, affection and compassion
Red the color of danger and warning
But its hard to r

Lunar LoveThe Lunar Eye plays peeping tom
To the poet pair that sit below
And the stars are buried by their glow
Which lingers till the girl is gone
He sits while she talks on and on
And never thinks to stop her voice
Alone among all men he is her choice
To while away the time and share birdsong.

In sleeping time, by small degrees
His flaws become all that she sees
And his love cannot go so far
Her eyes wander to what pleases
Her form, she mocks and leaves
And his sallow soul is sinking like a star.

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DDays of defeat are close at hand:
Daunted, but I understand
Death as nothing but a thrill,
Deigning you as greater still.
David bravely fought and warred,
Dealing bravely with the sword.
Deliver me, my lifeblood's Lord,
Dearly loved, by you restored.

Pray for MongoliaMongolia is a landlocked nation in northern Asia, right between China and Russia. According to the CIA Factbook, there are about 3,133,318 people living in Mongolia, 95% of whom are Mongol. Other ethnicities include Kazakhs (5%), and a very small minority of Russians and Chinese. The official language of Mongolia is Khalka Mongol, one of the most difficult languages to learn for Westerners due to its unique sounds and grammar structure.

Mongolians proudly trace their roots back to their nomadic ancestors led by Genghis Khan (more properly pronounced as Chingiis Khaan with a silent K). The Mongol empire set up by the Khans was the largest emp

Worth My SoulWhat could I gain that would be worth my soul?
What trade could possibly present itself as fair?
Could riches, knowledge, love fulfill the toll
Of trading my whole life to deep despair?

Within a life of routine after routine,
What trade could possibly present itself as fair?
To own, and then to lose for good, I've seen
Of trading my whole life to deep despair.

I seek a self-denial and a cross
Within a life of routine after routine.
My vision is of everlasting joy from loss,
To own and then to lose for good. I've seen

A bloodied, butchered man hung from a tree.
Could riches, knowledge, love fulfill the toll
He paid in full with b

The Drunken Young LordMy dog outside barks;
My love has returned.
Barefoot down the stairs:
My darling's wasted.

I drag him to bed
Without change in clothes.
Letting a drunk lie
Beats sleeping alone.

The Moon of the Mountain PassThe rising moon casts light past peak and sky,
But in a sea of clouds, hides from the eye.
The wand'ring wind flows from afar, and fast!
To beat and blow the barracks at Jade Pass.
Our Chinese soldiers hike down Baideng Way
While barbarians patrol about the bay.
No army in the history of man
Returned with all the soldiers it began.
The warriors all eye the border line
With homesick thoughts and wishes to resign.
And those back home, who in pavilions lie:
They find no rest, but sorrowfully sigh.

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Sonnet XXIII

by *Parsat, Apr 3, 2012, 10:09:26 PM
Literature / Poetry / Romantic / General / Traditional Fixed Forms

Op. 21, no. 5
Diary

O learn to read what silent love hath writ
Upon this daily diary of my heart!
No diatribe or deprecating wit
Remains in sheets that I have torn apart.
The new has mended well in crisp white pages
Ready for the fountain pen of hope
To make its mark, that perhaps future ages
Could see how overarching is His scope.
My love, I know each day you pour your verse
Unwritten on your heart in words unseen.
Both rambling thoughts or fixed forms terse,
Of every syllable I'll gladly glean.
Though artistry might stand to condescend,
I'd give all canon just to be your friend.

Sonnet XXIIIby *Parsat

Literature / Poetry / Romantic / General / Traditional Fixed Forms

This is Op. 21, no. 5. Based on Shakespeare's sonnet 23: "As an unperfect actor on the stage." To my future wife.

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~135711cal Apr 4, 2012

I love this, but line 5 needs one more syllable. (I am sure that this is a simple oversight and will not be difficult to fix)

beyond that it is wonderful, and it does have "the bard's" feel to it.

*Parsat Apr 4, 2012 Student Writer

Ah yes, I see it now. Thanks for the tip; I'll be putting on the brainstorming cap!

=deinktvis Apr 3, 2012 Student Writer

!li1121 Apr 3, 2012 Student Writer

I haven't mentioned your awesomeness of late, but yeah...

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Sonnet XXIII

Sonnet XXIIIby *Parsat

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