Burst Your Face, Did He
Do not let it fall unto the ground.
Do not wast it, drink it all.
Drink all the purple light.
Purple, white or yellow light instead?
The further out I go I swim in haze.
The closer in you come.
Tell me your name.
Should America die full of such strong woman.
Schizophrenic yet I see.
Purple, yellow hued,
one or two are blue,
black and white the pearls around your neck.
The woman music makes the madness claims.
Your love for him that when he came your face.
I saw it burst into the colors, I above described.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Pink Pearl Necklace
Pink Pearl Necklace; and heaven is this,
My island an afterthought mornings glow
and pink sands where coral waves grow.
Happy are the clams every night as pink
sand washes them in your dreams.
Under water so clear I sometimes forget
and stay to long listening to the waves
sing your pink song.
Drifting with the currents of sleep pearls of
yours pink, slip out from beneath my hand.
Filaments permeate the strings of your
dreams leaving me behind on a pink pearl
necklace on this island yours made of dreams.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Scar of Scars
Scar of Scars.
Around the cut, some are smooth.
Moist and true.
Bereft of moss or beard.
Pie faced and candy..ooh.
Every life savers.
Candy cake is brandy wine.
More, many more and edgy.
Leafy rims pink petaled.
Sharp razors, just more sweat and juicy.
Either way it's coming in,
Through the floor.
and your consciousness is expanded.
Red faced and over the clouds the moon
does look closely down,
and Scar of Scars, dropps drippy more milky.
There is only one cup from every one, some
have two and being with certain preference's.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Pink Pearl Necklace.
Pink Pearl Necklace; and heaven is this.
My island an afterthought mornings glow,
and pink sands there coral waves grow.
Happy are the oysters every night as pink
sand washes over them in your dreams.
Under water so clear I sometimes forget
and stay to long listening to the waves as
they sing your pink song.
Drifting with the currents of sleep pearls of
yours pink, slip off from beneath your neck.
Filaments permeate the strings of your
dreams leaving me behind on a pink pearl
necklace on this island you float on made of dreams.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Under Cover Of The 'rain
Under cover of the rain,
it does this too you some times
and under it we are kissing.
I let you touch my face,
which like the tidal pool has expectations.
Your song of love, this song and does each lullaby
and the rain is quite never has it slept, this silent,
swimming pools, i and you look up.
Full the swimming pool which in the night
when the ground it shimmers and makes some other song
which sleeps as music under your pink tin roof,
some times i think you are eccentric,
but the water made in France is too expensive, love.
poem by Is It Poetry
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You Don't Cheat On Him Because
He washes dishes
he feeds the kids
he gives you a bath
eyes closed
he cooks, he pours you wine
he makes sure you keep all of your
appointments on time
he is the banker
he walks the dog
he eats your fish
he walked into your eyes wide open
he makes sure you are clean clean clean
that you always fit into your jeans
he takes the children to the dentist
and the doctors while shopping
He never misses a pebble you drop
you would kill for someone like him
sane enough to admit it to crazy to deny it
you co-opted him his price was the cheapest in town.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Back And Forth
both are mine they both/know
that but it is salted palms
and that very small mask that hides it's nose
and thorns cause it to bleed my 'roses'—only 'lily' knew—no frowns he/him expanded her\you wash it off 'oh Sylvia' we are rich
with your pink of fingers painted color rainbows arc the sky'
as a finger moves it back and forth see the sea as it waves
a beautiful woman made of foam or of;
which hand is the nymph to splash her water- where he swims
pushing her heart up closer to mine
and both are fine pink salted pearls you wear around there.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Tampa
Tampa from those whom sent him,
the back section of their house.
The letter which is written never.
Each judge of his who reads.
Read long in the concrete box.
To be long it has died in remainder,
but because of a certain in order to short-circuit,
excessively why he would know.
There was and his et. al
above everything to they was there lie.
And From Tampa
They Sent him away,
never but always back home.
Letters never written.
Each Judge clever breed.
Reading in a long concrete box.
Too long to be dead
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poem by Is It Poetry
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From the Green Eye
Eye the river which is formed by why.
Eye as for the river my mind has been formed by the why.
From the green eye which is older than the last bend now strait.
Eye of the blood from one person the river of ancient times.
And as human as the world,
like the river you were brought up why deeply.
The dawn is young, for you why me who she is and I.
When hearing, rising up from the mud and singing.
The river which is formed by the first ancient why.
Ancient times, dusky river filled over in mist.
Eye for my mind,
like the river you were brought up to rise deeply, bloody why.
poem by Is It Poetry
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it is..a....Casual Observer
Watching women do everything
while men play god.
Patching quilts of time to harvest
lost joys.
Passing memories hands of love
washing minds
pains suffering bosoms must hold
creating more as men
always have.
Watching it happen worlds unwind
tangled more
it's knowing it is a shadow
powerless for whom the snare catches.
Landscapes running home to women
pictures
leaving books words
unbound
hidden found hidden sound she hears.
Rehearsal's dresses staged unzipped
shows flow and ebb
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poem by Is It Poetry
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