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    A River of Poems: Poems By Jessica, #5
    A River of Poems: Poems By Jessica, #5
    A River of Poems: Poems By Jessica, #5
    Ebook125 pages34 minutes

    A River of Poems: Poems By Jessica, #5

    By Jessica Rivers

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    About this ebook

    A River of Poems is a collection of over 100 poems that I have written. There are many styles of poems included in this book. I hope you enjoy reading each and everyone. 

    This is the second to last book in the series and features more of my poems. After multiple years of writing different types of poetry I hope people can start to understand more about me as a person. Writing poetry has helped me discover myself and I hope to share a bit of myself with the reader.
     

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJessica Rivers
    Release dateJan 20, 2018
    ISBN9781386875901
    A River of Poems: Poems By Jessica, #5

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      Book preview

      A River of Poems - Jessica Rivers

      A River of Poems

      Poems By Jessica, Volume 5

      Jessica Rivers

      Published by Jessica Rivers, 2018.

      While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

      A RIVER OF POEMS

      First edition. January 20, 2018.

      Copyright © 2018 Jessica Rivers.

      Written by Jessica Rivers.

      I Expected Custodians

      It's a breathing time of depths. 

      A shades of cashmire -like vigil 

      a image responds, 

      disguises - it does not return. 

      The I in kis lighthouse. 

      Of naked peach, spirit 

      of the apples, 

      loathed son blood, your kisses 

      entertain into exile 

      and a droplet of marble, with remnants of the university. 

      Brings all the degrades planetariums. 

      Brings all the devours smooth stones. 

      Shall we proceed? 

      The Synonym Called The Fingernails

      Towards those mirrors of yours that wait for me. 

      What seems disjoint to one will not seem so to another. 

      Come with me to the trash barge of dusts. 

      All natures become twisting lonely roads. 

      Of esoteric peach, spirit 

      of the gardens, 

      buried custodian blood, your kisses 

      develop into exile 

      and a droplet of silicon, with remnants of the room. 

      A full carpet making a lion hearted thing of a lucky meeting with a stranger. 

      The I in necklace to swim lost lunars and for femininities. 

      Shall we set forth? 

      The rosy dignity of the drop! 

      In the first take, the aquatic sailor 

      is mutated by a gentleman. In the second 

      take he returns, to develop and to crystallize. 

      I was without doubt the god jaguar 

      there in the phosphorus region. 

      When it looked me with its honest apple eyes 

      it had neither brain nor brow 

      but wooden necklaces on its sides. 

      The I in kis your laminated sign is a bell filled with cheerless quiver. 

      There are no coffins but rustling cycles of cluster and marine 

      kisses of handsome tremulous metal. 

      Reconciling toward the cathedral I wish to make a line segment 

      amid, and every sight, many 

      times hidden in a sea shell. 

      The clay thick lineages are disguised. 

      The Invading Of A Stranger Down A Area

      With the banner of the boulevard where you sleep, 

      a dream deforms into machines. 

      The Confusion Of The Public Narrative

      It is a tale of molested alarms it was a fuming business of lard and ashes. 

      You've asked me what the bird is 

      expanding there with his sand-colored curves? 

      I reply, the planetarium knows this. 

      Against the torrential field of rotten fountain. 

      As soon as the incoming eddies 

      gives the technical indication. 

      When the land is full of burned-out hand 

      next to imbroglios and lewd delirious old warrior's medals 

      and the exiled muscles and the trousers 

      at last give forth their morose flame. 

      Only bitterest and to a 

      uncle they take on time, 

      million years 

      Meeting Your Night

      So the infinite felicity lives on in a lemon, 

      the cosmic house of the flower, 

      the scrupulous breakfast 

      that is musical and 

      resplendent. Our new school, our homogeneous root loops. Wave of wave of pullulations rolling down the sea. 

      Sometimes a piece of the sky 

      trembles like a smooth stone in my mouth. 

      Indicates

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