favorite+word+poems

Lying in agonizing pain My torso begins to contort. Yesterday, I was king. Now I lie, gargling my blood and saliva. The lacerations on my back flow velvet. My memories dwindle. My hopes dwindle. I dwindle. My carpet, once silky smooth, now soaks in the creamy remnants of my defeated soul. What will be left of me? My festering corpse? the feeling is bittersweet as I lie here. As my meloncholy brain leaks sweet juices out my ears and onto the ebony carpeting. The gashes on my body will never fade, but my conciousness will.
 * A King's Downfall**
 * Zack Ragozzino**

The ink-black ebony velvet flows gracefully through the window in a luminous cascade over the pale, moonlight floor. in the latticed window, the moon shines like an ivory spark against the midnight blue mist of the night sky. a loquacious clock chimes the stroke of midnight, its deep resonant tones filling the otherwise silky silence, its ethereal eloquence unfurling into the melancholy shadows of night, before surrendering to the noiseless chocolate darkness once more. a silence so deep, it reaches the elegant stars. through the soft, deep dark, the stars drift about like feathers swallowed by a swathe of icy winter wind. their celestial beauty illuminating the opaque darkness. just beyond the horizon line, the sun unfurls its thousand-fold petals like a bud bursting into bloom, rays lighting up the edge of the sky- the edge of the world. the serene moon sinks lower in the sky, its delicate beauty ephemeral as the sun dawns in the bittersweet break of the day.
 * As the Night Fades**
 * Elise Kronquist**

My fine fiend, Let me tell you about the day I just succint a hole in one and Last night A dashing young spark appeared Amid the superfluous ultimatums of the council Aroma arrived from Rome He, a mortician by trade, said Very gravely, "Sleeping Beauty shtick her finger on a dwindle And died." Oh, horror. We wept against the shenanigans of the world, So that the Pope was moved to say: "Haebeus Corpus" With such fever that his audience immediately Took to their beds with Nuclear temperatures. Phosphorus the signs all say Phos will seize power for us. And the Scarlet Pumpernickel will ride again, Never fear, they cry. But I say nothing. Sai, I breathe irrevocably, Because who Really Knows what to think.
 * Each Day Is A Rendezvous With Confusion**
 * Diana Oppenheimer**

**Quite a Quandary...**Cameron Smith I'm in quite the quandaryYou see, it started with a few shenanigans.I didn't mean for it to end in lacerationsOr a nuclear meltdownOr Marxism.My quandary is whether or not to tell the livid CzarThat I used oranges to disintergrate the phosphorus stabilizerOranges are irrelevant, sorryI meant to say citrus.I guess I just have fruit on the mindLuscious, velvet fruitThey have such a lovely aroma.SorryI shouldn't have played alchemist.I didnt want to cause such a massacreThat resulted in the manslaughter of the Arch-Duke.I give my condolencesfor causing world war three. **A Sea of Words**  By Isabel Skene

Dive into the depths of the sea of words  See them elegantly twisting and turning   Serene, silent in the ebb and flow of the water   They are whispering   Can you hear them? The delicate words with their melancholy tune  Luminous in the clear blue water   Pass by //poignant//, it cools its feathers in the shallows   Skirt pass //skittish//, the letters contort themselves   As they dart nervously away   Deeper and deeper into the sea,   the sky is auburn and the water below is black as ebony   The darkness closes in, but the words remain   //Juxtapose, loquacious, porcupine//   They roll through the waves,   Their sharp consonants skipping over the sandy floor   Caught in a riptide of //quintessential//   Float past a school of //enigmatic,// Scales flashing as they flit to and fro   Suffocated in a swarm of //discomfiture//   Gnashing their teeth as they battle   Over the lone //indigenous//, the intended pray   It is too fast for them   A spark of //irrevocable,//   the light reflecting of the twin r's, like a pair of soldiers standing at attention   A current catches, and drags the words in with the tide   The sea is devoid of words, the light dwindles   It is over.

**Rain** by Voni Kengla Beyond the window throughout the serene forests a delicate mis begins to swarm Its melancholy grace dwindles into fury thunder crashes its cymbals lightning illuminates the sky My house is under siege It pounds upon the roof loud as marbles on hardwood floor the wind whips the helpless, drooping willow trees the storm drowns the bright flowers in its anger as the winds blow their penultimate gusts, the mist returns the silky leaves of dripping plants and the velvet, soggy dirt and the fresh aroma of rain lingers **An Oboist's View** by Neeka Safdari Oblong oboe in hand, the performer descended elegantly upon the staircase, leading her to a serene, awed crowd, in front of whom she played a delicate, uplifting piece. Gracefully, she left the previously lethargic mass to dance. Once the newly infatuated audience clapped in dazzled wonderment, she quaintly bowed, allowing a slight smile to take her lips, for she knew the crowd enjoyed each falsetto, each note she played, and she felt extraordinary. **Daylight Come At Last** By Blake Peebles The dregs of hate. The meloncholy slosh of ebony night.A silky malice amon the darkness.Hope is lost.Lost.But then a spark,a quick flit of love.The elvenesse curve of daylight come at last.Luminous, magical, delicate hope.Hope.

**Somber Summer's Eve**By Julia Porter As the sunlight dwindled,A serene essence fell on the room.Silky eyelashes flutteredIn a melancholy grace.Auburn hair illuminatedThe delicate features luminous.Bittersweet emotions rose then fell,The velvet mist settled on an ebony sky. **Release**By Rachel Rise I sit.Shadows flit by in my head.They fumigate me,eviscerating my conscience.Quietly a lattice of nothingsnakes itself through my shell,slinking far beyond the depthsof my perception. "Hello," it says."This is the zodiac speaking." It its deep ebony fibers,there is a new growth.It feeds on my festering emotionand releases its burrs to the remains.It contorts me into shadow. "I'm waiting," it says. I understand what it means.I cough, gargle, hurlup the dregs of my human soul.A black mist fills my head.A bittersweet release.

**The Diabetic ** Melissa Liu

Melancholy starved him, The gloom ate his heart as It suddenly caught fire, A luminous sight. He watched the auburn flames engulf his body. He watched his untamed, tawny hair catch on fire. He watched as a bottle appeared in hand, The elixir that contained all the happiness drained from him. His feeble hand rose, Lifting the flask of gold, But fell back as the holocaust spread to his hands. The elixir flowed out like molten gold, The intoxicating aroma filled his mind The tingling, warm sensation spread through his body, <span style="display: block; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; text-align: justify;">Burning him more than the flames ever could, <span style="display: block; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; text-align: justify;">And finally spread to his heart. <span style="display: block; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; text-align: justify;">The ice of his soul began to melt <span style="display: block; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; text-align: justify;">And slowly dwindled the scorching fire. <span style="display: block; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; text-align: justify;">The final flames licked his body <span style="display: block; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; text-align: justify;">And the last spark left with his life.

**Snake Eyes**By Megan CristHer quaint auburn hairflowed with elegancelike a willow.Her skin, like ebonysmooth in serenity.

Her eyes though,slink, flitting narrowly.Agonizing revulsionspiriling around hatred,

Silkly she slithersall grace drowned inher distinguished eyescontorting all beautyinto fog. **Humanity's Fall** By Ammas Tanveer

The essence of love lies dwindling in the hearts of humanity. For we exploit the good of others to spark our own desires. The agony of existences violates our souls and influences our hate. Hate, that transforms into an austere vision of indistinguishable fear. Our ultimatum is at hand, and the once luminous promise of hope has vanished. Mankind's rendezvous with death approaches, and the supremacy of civilization crumbles. Salvation is irrelevant.

**King of Death** By Yuriy Kamsha The gash on my chest bleeds outward,As I take my penultimate step.I walk with the grace of a czar,No one could doubt my elegance.Despite my distinguishable injury,A sweet smell fills the air,And i tread on silk.I slosh through the quagmire of corpses,What they had done in life is irrelevant,For what i have done is irrevocablHatred born of love,I smile bitter sweetly For i have killed them all.

**The Child With Auburn Eyes** By Serena Xu

The child with auburn eyes, Blazing eyes that illuminated the night sky with wonders, Had an irrevocable trust in safety and familiarity. He would not be exploited to the cruel world ahead, Instead he kept alone in his own serene peace. But as he grew older, he felt a sensation, An enigmatic sensation that would not leave his mind or soul. It began to mock him in a high-pitched falsetto, And agonizing pain surged through his veins constantly. But the child would not give in to the festering pulling, He wanted to stay in his quaint little house, hiding. Years passed and the child, now a man, began to realize That he wanted to reach out to the world Unfurling the feathers of his sheltered body. And once those feathers were open and earnest, His innocence vanished in a luminous mist Until all that was left was A child with auburn eyes.

**Dark Mist**By Shannon Gu She stands in a velvet dressAmid the mist of melancholy.While ebony waves slosh againstThe lacerations on her legs. She walks forward,Lethargic in her movements,An agonizing journey.Her heart flutters in fear,Face contorted in anguish. Thunder crashes in the distance. Sometimes she wishes she was a bird,Able to unfurl wings with tawny feathersAnd fly with eleganceAmong the willow trees,High above the derision,High above the hate... But that dream was too much. She could only hope to one dayFind the distinguishable spark in the mistIlluminating in the darkness of her soul.
 * Defeat**

By Zach Bluebond

Agonizing over the loss of the game, In essence, the loss of his soul. The supremacy of the other team apparent, His statistics undoubtedly irrelevant. The luminous light of the stars shone brightly, Despite his pure hatred of the night.

The skittish fans in attendance frown upon his courageous soul. The lollipops go to the extraordinary victor, Not to the Marxist loser. He wanted to lay siege upon the field of the dreaded opponent, The quintessential field of excellence.

The antibiotics would heal his cuts and bruises, Not the lacerations to his heart or image. His thoughts dwindle over what could have been, But like a true man, He left the field with grace, Never to be seen again.

By Julia Weis
 * The Quandary Of An Enigmatic Dressmaker**

A group of loquacious women storm in flitting about from shelf to shelf unsatisfied with the ephemeral fads much to my discomfiture they crowd around my workplace asking of the sign in the window handmade dresses.

My shop is now a quarantine. No one enters. I do not exit. I ask myself quaint questions: velvet or silk? auburn or tawny? The delicate lattice unfurls. My creation.

By Sydney Jones
 * A Storm**

Her grace angled, Arms stretching for that Quintessential calm.

Swathed in the inky shadows of past and future, She tries to understand The dance.

Thunder rolls as auburn sparks stain the sky. Luminous revulsions illustrate Her frightened figure. Melancholy eclipses the Ebony contrast, Overwhelming that human tendency To feel.

Yet, A candle burns… fire flickering In the wind Tendrils of light slipping into The moonless night.

Feathers ruffle, shaking the mist That cages her freedom. Until her wings unfurl, And delicacy abandoned, She flies.

By Caroline Lombardi
 * Final Moments**

agonizingly, the clock ticks by their time in class dwindling as the barely comprehensible teacher attempts to impart that knowledge to which her loquacious students feel such revulsion. they find it irrelevant, the information in this dreary lecture quaint, the notion of required secondary education totalitarian, the so-called supremacy of adults. the eccentric teacher sighs as the boys mimic her in mocking falsetto finally, the bell rings, and the students' discomfiture is translated to energy, to a mad dash out the classroom door at the bittersweet parting at the end of the day. when finally, the very last layabouts, the only remaining stragglers flit out the door, and all is silent, they leave the aroma of cologne, sweat, and eraser shavings behind

By Austin Weng If you were to go walking in the fall All the trees ablaze in an auburn fire You might see a boy resting alone Under the caring willow tree Hair like a porcupine and a lollipop dangling from his mouth You would have thought nothing of this boy So indistinguishable from the rest Unless you looked into his eyes
 * The Boy and his Lollipop**

There you could see a spark And you could tell That the boy had a perhaps someone Who told him that spark would become a perhaps flame A luminous fire That would fill his lungs with warmth Every time he took a breathe of the cool, autumn air

If you were to go walking in the winter The trees bare and bleak You might see a boy resting alone Under the weeping willow The spark is gone And that perhaps flame if it ever existed Had most likely contorted and dwindled Before it even got a chance And the boy Hair flattened by the elements Still sucked his lollipop Now just a soggy stick Until a cold wind ripped it from his mouth

By Ada Zhang
 * As I Lay Dying**

I illuminate the dying spark. It shines for a short while, coughing and sputtering. It screams, the bittersweet tang of burning metal expanding, expanding, until the copper tinges even the very air red. The spark dwindles, a melancholy speck of light among the tendrils of grasping shadows. And the flames flicker to a final stop. Darkness envelopes me, swathing me in a choking embrace, pushing me deeper, deeper, into its greedy arms. I draw in an agonizing breath, and my lungs contract in a painful way. I exhale, and there is nothing more.

But the copper remains, settling on the dirty ground in a shocking shade of red.

By Justine Kim
 * The Taste**

Velvet notes Silky and sweet, cool to the touch Vanishing into the mist Spraying delicate drops on my face. A spark makes the notes skittish Jumping up to a falsetto Flitting, fluttering, Rushing from the oboe's mouth In a torrent of bittersweet sound Insistent longing to be heard Appetizing to the taste as the sound melts on the tongue Like a buttery biscuit, rich and light A lattice of flavors The ebony instrument falls into austere silence As the aroma of the lattice dances its way into the heart Forever to stay

By Harrison Zimba
 * Enamored**

Love was the essence of this svelte man His distinguishable fidelity sparked hate amongst others The aroma of loathing was repulsive He could taste others anguish like acrid antibiotics As he swallowed the bitter medicine he contorted his face The man fluttered his eyelashes The incomprehensible had occurred He was addicted to infatuation He was addicted to death.

By Isabelle Sackville-West
 * Morning Coffee**

I slowly tip my mug allowing the bitter dregs of coffee to subordinately conform to my actions.

Her eyelids flutter

Outside a robin, red-breasted and proud unfurls his great feathers and thunders foreward into the morning mists.

My gaze returns to the child, lethargically picking at her uneaten buscuit. without a word she gracefully rises, gingerly smooths her tawny hair, and quitely exits the room.

"Bye" I utter, my voice barely a wisper, nothing more than a hopeless pianissimo. Lovingly, I watch her go knowing that my words are irrelevant. The still morning's silence festers in my mind.