Describe The Member Above You With A Poem

[Korvinagor]

The aesthetic of each post is loved - I can assure you,
the style of words and pictures blend quite well.
It speaks to me a dapper gent', with fascinating style bent,
and demeanour rather proper, I can tell.

An untapped source of fun is what I'm sure you're bound to be,
so I'll let my stay here linger, watch, and wait.
As I type out this poem/letter, let us know each other better,
hope description's fairly meted - insult it ain't.

 

[Kilgore Trout]

Based on Korvinagor's avatar:

snowed-in retinas,
sight shook in all
white,

oily
shadows of feathers
spread outward,
wings
ease inward in
skeletal unfolds


Korvinagor
settles on ice, glides
claws, screeching,
rising to skim
up then down
sky
dark-wet
in fall of
white

 

[Firebird 8118]

A fish called Wanda
Swimming with a bunch of sharks
In the deep blue sea

An original haiku

 

[Korvinagor]

When you lose your track 'why',
with darkness wrapped around you,
and perhaps you'd rather vanish, die,
remember what the past knew.

The Morning Star will never leave,
for it cleanses all it bathes.
Look up into the sky, and clasp your hands,
it's a new dawn, it's a new day.

 

[Firebird 8118]

When you lose your track 'why',
with darkness wrapped around you,
and perhaps you'd rather vanish, die,
remember what the past knew.

The Morning Star will never leave,
for it cleanses all it bathes.
Look up into the sky, and clasp your hands,
it's a new dawn, it's a new day.

... Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"

 

[Korvinagor]

I caught a tiger by the toe,
why did it holler? I don't know.

 

[Lord Lavender]

The raven took haven in the fact that he could peck
He then heckled at the fat man.
The fat man was hooked on the bird

 

[The Cat]

a waskily wabbit with wiggly nose, a tawdry trickster with cottony tail. A long eared loner with carrots on the brain, the wrong way to Albuquerque on a wrong turn he'll blame, and if you try to hunt him, you're in for some pain. Of course you know this means war, but at least with Bugs, it's never a bore.

 

[❀༺♥༻ℭ𝔞𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔞_𝔄𝔦𝔰𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤༺♥༻❀༺]

Mystery Man by Imania Margria


I wonder what it is hidden behind your eyes.
I wonder if it's truth or if it's lies.
I want to know about you, mystery man,
I want to know what makes you smile and laugh.
I want to know what makes you passionate and what makes you mad.
I want to know the knowledge and wisdom that lurks behind your wild actions,
I want to know your secrets that hide deep inside of you hidden from the world,
And in return I would tell you mine.
I want to know what drives you,
I want to know your heartaches along with your triumphs.
I want to know the passions of your heart.
I want to know your dreams,
Your desires.
I want to know if you have ever loved.
Have you ever felt true love or have you been hiding from it all along.
There are many questions lurking inside of me.
Why I want to know?
I have no clue.
All I know is there's a part of me that won't stop until I solve the mystery that is you. ​

 

[The Cat]

“Hope” is the thing with feathers - (314)
By Emily Dickinson
“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.

 

[❀༺♥༻ℭ𝔞𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔞_𝔄𝔦𝔰𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤༺♥༻❀༺]

If You Were Coming In The Fall - Emily Dickinson

If you were coming in the fall,
I ’d brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spurn,
As housewives do a fly.

If I could see you in a year,
I ’d wind the months in balls,
And put them each in separate drawers,
Until their time befalls.

If only centuries delayed,
I ’d count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemen’s land.

If certain, when this life was out,
That yours and mine should be,
I ’d toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.

But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time’s uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.

 

[The Cat]

She Walks in Beauty
George Gordon Byron, 1788 - 1824

I.

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

II.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

III.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

 

[Merced]

Admittedly, you don't know much about them.
You could search the logs
or rummage through photos
You can try and ask around
or observe from afar
but you won't be able to draw many conclusions

Admittedly, it gets easier after a while.
You manage to get some solid footing
and then you're able to make some inferences
It's not a hassle or a hunt
to reach out in that way.

Admittedly, you feel silly for fretting in the first place.
Several common interests are noted
and even a shared objective in mind
You develop a strong sense of trust
and in return, solidarity is shared

Admittedly, you felt that comfortable from the start.