From My Latest Poetry Collection, Leaf Litter.

the lover’s almanac : part one.

A List of "Beautiful" Words: Orange

for your next poem/story

Apricot - a variable color averaging a moderate orange

Carotene - any of several orange or red crystalline hydrocarbon pigments that occur in the chromoplasts of plants and in the fatty tissues of plant-eating animals and are convertible to vitamin A

Carroty - resembling carrots in color

Jack-o'-lantern - any of several large orangish gill fungi (genus Omphalotus) that are poisonous and luminescent

Pumpkin - a strong orange color

Saffron - a moderate orange to orange yellow

Tangerine - a moderate to strong reddish orange

Terracotta - a brownish orange

Titian - of a brownish-orange color

Vermilion - a vivid reddish orange

More: Lists of Beautiful Words ⚜ Word Lists

i care btw. i care abt the song ur listening to or the bug u saw or how u just got outta the shower or how ur happily hanging out w ur friends or how ur kinda sad or how good was the meal u just had or ur fav character from an indie game nobody knows or if u chugged down some water. i always will

Rust

Prayer

I wish I could pray every day,

Over dinner or at bedtime

Or anytime during the day perhaps.

I would say I have nothing to

Pray about, but that would be a lie.

I have plenty to pray for, both for

Myself and for others.

All I would need to do is

Clasp my hands, bow my head,

Talk to God.

Then my hands become repelling

Magnets, my head, full of helium.

My prayers stay stuck in my throat,

Choking my soul.

On occasion, I vomit up these

Words caught up inside,

Spewing out of my eyes and mouth,

Screaming a silent scream as

The rain streams down my face.

It's either this, or the prayers

Frozen in place would chill my heart,

Turn me to stone, kill my spirit.

We're neither of us angels

I

The crowd of lesser demons gnawing at my thoughts doesn’t come from us –

my mind circles because our moments won’t stand still to be captured.

I only haunt myself when you’re not in reach to remind me I haven’t died.

II

I weave secrets, around you, over you, yet in your presence nothing is hidden,

not even the carelessness of my wishing. You are the pennies winking low in the well,

taunting me. Every past moment of wistfulness for someone I hadn’t met yet arriving

with the grace and fluidity of rain now distils fears to the nightmare of losing this.

III

No angels will save us – still a barter better than any

offered at the crossroads. I’ll love the demons to death.

Bad Seed