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neth jones May 29
clouds roiling   blood blue
a day of mouths feeding mouths
i feel subpoenaed

furrows   being turned in the earth
mouths feeding mouths
my thoughts   stimulated

birds and their young
mouths feed mouths
nourishment
3 x haiku style poems
born of one and then splintered for mood
I S A A C Apr 2023
land of untold stories
where our half baked entanglement resides
there are no roses on its graveside
just poppies, remembrance in our minds
our muted mouths invisiblize those nights
Amanda Hawk Aug 2020
Tears are a signature
Our mouths
Can’t quite sign
For goodbye lingers
In the corner of our eyes
Stumbling down our cheeks
Hands shake for words
To create in an embrace
That will swallow us whole
And for a moment
Feel full, overflowing
Healing
For seconds are fleeting
When goodbye has a home
Upon your tongue
Fheyra May 2020
Kingdoms more,
Kingdoms sore
Passing the guards—
Like busting bars
Riddles compact— From the numbers,— Etched in Hollow Blocks
The fact of goners—
Hit the doors,— and punch the backs— In hied, to navigate the tracks—
To boost out— Parts.

Steep lands embed this twisted wanderer—
Aches the leaves and humps— Pushing to slouch
As I beg the ground— Not to pound—
For the planes to switch rounds.

Offsprings declined the measures— of luxuriant wands
The caverns feed the infant's boredom
Does hold the dome—
For loitering dogs
An insatiable ****—
That climbs for ripe fruits—
And wildly shouts— The beggar's principles
Here and there— Values— Then eats apples.

The weathering turned the rocks to dust
I must— crumple my tasks
Ah, the shallows..
On search for walloped hearts— Of shortened wage;— Of weak grips
Oh, I thirst for distance
Lay down barks! Lay down!
**** the shallows!
God, oh God,—
Is this the penalty for swindling clemency?—
Just crumbs..
Just crumbs..
For open mouths..
Oh, why they broke it?

Face down,— I crawl to this warmth
They fade..
So I kneel for a while— With curved points— To the unknown shore
What beauty relies from there?
I am bandaged by whipped words
Tell the pending men— Of my bare tense..

Sigh and sigh..
The sand and seaweeds
Caressing the voyager's rest
Refresh the bonds of East and West—
From the rise and fall— Of Sailors' flow
Collide the surfers— With tentacles of Immortality!
The commands of Tides—
Emerge a Hurricane— to blow its treasures— with the Strakes!

Alas, the whales jump—
Splashing with the crystals
I know now..
The vast,— This is my Wealth— My True Luxury
My Kingdom calls me..
I shall embrace my prize..
I swim the bottomless Abyss..

They landed on my spot—
With only slacks on sand—
And the surface reads—
"Hah, I'm Rich Now!"
There are outrageous things they do to feed themselves in scarcity. They have morals, but alongisde, they need to stay alive.
Iggy Chuck Jan 2020
We wander
through the sleeping town,
through its glory and its misery

The night is ours
and only she knows
the words of passion
that spill from our mouths

What a beautiful feeling
knowing that neither the moon
nor the stars
are going to tell on us

Because we belong in the night
and she belongs to us.
Alice Wilde Mar 2019
The fluidity of words
Consecrating more than
A simple idea
Has slipped away

And what’s left are
Empty hands and
Silent mouths
Void of sophistication
Jessica Dec 2018
One of the hardest challenges with writing
is the honesty in it.

Our whole lives we are taught to filter our thoughts,
make them psss through our minds before our mouths.

With writing, the whole point is to allow the words to come out unfiltered and raw.
We must enable them to come from the heart without passing through too much of our minds.
Jessica
Ivan Brooks Sr Sep 2018
Daybreak some mouths open to eat
And some open to host only flies.
Some mouths open to gossip or speak  
Falsehood, vulgarity and evil or lies.

Some mouths open only to do both
Yet they accomplish nothing from it.
Some open to display a bad tooth
And emit an odor that smells like ****.

Some mouths open but say nothing
Coherent and productive and actual,
Yet will go poking in nearly everything
Saying something that isn't factual.

Daybreak, some mouths stay closed
Opting to be neutral and say the truth.
These mouths may be mute and bored,
The price of gold these mouths are worth.

©IvanBrooksPoetry
3/9/2018
Shut up if you nothing to say... say s neural mouth.
I was strolling down the aisle
We were shopping there in style
With my daughter sitting smiling in the cart,
I was stretching out my hand
For the Martinelli's brand
When the apple of my eye gave me a start.

With the bottle in my grasp
I saw, coming toward us fast,
A high heeled damsel, scarfed and towing her caddie
And she smirked as I, condemned,
Stood up to comprehend
The reason, as my child said "Whisky Daddy?"

There was nothing I could say,
To make it seem another way,
To vanquish the conviction so compelling
It was the color you could tell
And the shape she knew so well,
The question that my daughter asked was telling.

Neil Stewart McLeod
This poem is published in an anthology called "A Ship In A Bottle" and is available from this link:
http://www.amazon.com/Ship-In-Bottle-Stewart-McLeod/dp/1490390847/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1372568128&sr=8-1&keywords=a+ship+in+a+bottle+Neil+Stewart+McLeod#reader_1490390847Neil
Joshua Haines Jun 2016
Dead names scarred onto the mouths of trees,
teenagers as stripped as the bark,
fenced by the flutter of the leaves.
I once loved a girl who loved
to remember the old me.

There's a storm, scurrying across the saffron.
You'd have to ask if this would always go on;
the broken hair, grape jaw, leaky gums.
An embrace, tortured knuckle,
all before the Sun, the bodies buckle.

Incurable beauty explained by the hunting game:
Is there a God who molds the fumes,
escaping from my brain?
I don't want to think, that all my thoughts
are all just the same.
There isn't this, a thing so light,
a breeland sheersand,
to swift good night.
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