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#cinquain
poppiesandpromises · 15 days
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Tulips
Barely open
As the sun smiles slowly
The world becomes a softer place
Blooming
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creatediana · 5 months
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"I hate November." - a poem written 11/08/2023
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Cinquain - bouquet
Beauty,
Birth of bouquet,
The flowers remind me
Of hearts made of stems and petals.
Now live.
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libidomechanica · 2 months
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To match twixt game: see the purple greater glories, their Consecrate
To match ’twixt game: see the purple greater glories, their Consecrate! Is most desyre: their layes.
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darkominiscorridors · 2 months
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I thirst.
Parched be thine lips.
Phlegethon waves in white.
Thy flame can only fill me full.
Burn me.
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scoutpologist · 7 months
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fallen angels?
dripping wax, liquor, smoke. i didn’t notice your practiced leaving. shyly walking outward.
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mindful-hempress · 2 years
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Ruby Drips
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Eros
demanded zeal;
the carmine flow this night
spill on marble_ smeared ruby drips
stains lips.
Walata M.
Photo from Pinterest ~ "Unholy Blood"
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owrites · 2 years
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Liquid
My love for you
Honey drops on my tongue
Glistening white with wanton cream
... and sweet
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laloorisa · 6 months
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Intrusive thoughts
Eerie, sinister
Luring, deranging, triggering
Slips an absurd pleasure
Dark meditations
- Thought it to be a cinquain but it came out as a free verse
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alexofasinfulnature · 2 years
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Gorgon
Broken Beauty
Coiling, Waiting, Luring,
Fangs Venomous and Welcoming
Human
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poppiesandpromises · 12 days
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Floating
Shot through with gold
Cotton candy clouds drift
Sheep-shaped against the endless blue
Softness
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poetryispretentious · 11 months
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Prompt 149 - Character traits
How well can you describe someone with just 11 syllables? Example: DipsHis friesIn his shakeBut hates ketchupweird Form of the week: Lanterne
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View On WordPress
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donpasquella · 8 months
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Cinquain For Winter
Winter. Too damn cold here. Maybe move to Brazil. Loll on the beach. Meet the locals. Be warm.
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libidomechanica · 4 months
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Untitled Poem # 10951
By could na pretence.—Young Phoebe, his moulder half- kill’d deer less; for Johnny? Upon my love.
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darkominiscorridors · 2 months
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Distance,
it means little.
Our eyes are blindfolded,
for we touch through laughs and weeping.
Through words.
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wordsofmra · 9 months
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