February 16, 2011
By OmarY BRONZE, Niskayuna, New York
OmarY BRONZE, Niskayuna, New York
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"all bad poetry springs from genuine feeling" - Oscar Wilde

Come let us step,
With red kisses,
Pouring from your fingertips,
With hands held,
Into the copper streets,
With red kisses,
Rain-washed and gray,
Where the suns cool rays dance
And where the fair children play,
As your snowy gown bubbles in the giggling wind,

Come let us step,
With soft whispers,
In our tiptoe ears,
Sweeter than the syrups,
Sucked by the golden dews,
Pouring into our small secret ears,
With hands held,
A blue mist will flare,
And penetrate our hearts,
From the brown branches,
Sing-song autumn crisps,
With soft whispers,
Will twirl in piano pleasures,
Soaked in honey-heavy,
Swirling milky measures,

Come let us step,
With trembling young hearts,
With quaking aching young hearts,
Pounding like springs first breath,
Hands held,
We’ll bathe free,
In the sugars of sunlight,
Your smooth strawberry lips,
And tart tangerine cheeks,
A wilderness blazes in your eyes,
And a fiery sunset across your breasts,
Rosy dawn in her blue silky skirts encircles
Those lips, we’ll dance
With the strange tropic shadows,
Silhouetted against those lips,

Come let us step,
With hands held,
Bursts of laughter in bright tremolos,
Choruses of flutes in sweet trill,
Laughing and drunk we’ll trot in love,
A smile, a smile!
Cry with the garbage cats and sing with the dove,
We’ll sail on your raven hair,
Where little crystal droplets,
Pulsate and shimmer and glisten,
And sing with the glassy stars
And flow with the moons warm rays,
All white like pigeon wings,

Come let us step,
Weary and wondrous,
With hands held,
Should we snooze under the sable curls of dusk?
Gently flowing in its dark waves,
Drown in the white dreams gilding the fabric of the sky?
Intoxicate ourselves?
Embraced in the opiate climes
Of the brisk nighttime breeze,
From which tempting refreshing waterfalls of liquid starlight pour?

Come let us step,
With hands held,
Oh with our lonely hands held,
We’ll be young! So happy!
Your chirping eyelashes,
From whence the fluttering wings,
Of the butterflies spring for moments brief,
All steal my soul like a masked winking thief,

Come let us Step,
With hands held,
Who knows? Who knows?
Into our grey apartment,
Where the sad violet sofa lays,
Where your pale little toes peak and whimper,
Against the violent vertical sizzling cocktail colors,
Stained and splattered in lustful blots of purple,
Hazy moon tints of lush lilacs linger in blue,
And the scarlet’s and fruits and berries blush,
Across the borders and regions of you,
Along your winding legs feline and smooth,
I’ll climb the rolling hills until I descend into the pink valleys,
Your Arab corset waist bending with the charcoal violins,
Twisting with the Cinnamon and apricot Picasso perfumes,
Scents leak and lay spinning into the sapphire pink
Eyelids of dripping dawn,

And we lay together,
How your beauty and this moment reflects,
A lonely dewdrop sliding down a single blade of grass,
How naked how real

The author's comments:
It's about a girl in my class who doesn't know it's about her.

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