Ben Nicolls
Feb 25, 2011

Everyday you are different
Though inherently similar
You show me something each day
That is completely new.

Whether it is as simple
As the way the light reflects
In your ever-changing eyes,
As subtle as a change
In your alluring smile,
As creative as a new thought
That bursts from your mind.

You keep me on my toes,
My pen scratching at the page,
And my adoration stronger
Than the day before

metamorphic waves
Setenance

feathered shadows
ripple like the water
in the wind
on which they're cast

miniscule
molten metal
droplet beetles
dive beneath
the shimmering water

bathed in
metamorphic waves
of bending light

inobservably tiny legs
quickening
in a graceful fury

sliding through the world
like slow-motion lightning

or a brilliant spark
unnoticeably extricated
from its source

“Smash your metamorphic protolith,

Rain drop ruins my melancholy
Rain drop brushes my border collie;
his tail wags across my shin,
breaking my ever-building reverie.  

“Smash that”, says the rock to its falling neighbor,
letting it go without attempt at a rumbling tremor.
“Smash your metamorphic protolith,
sedimentary is your bona fide nature”.

The quartzite stone has no room to reject but yield,
but so behold: I catch it with my awakened shield.
Lays in my hand the metamorphic stone,
Ecstatic to be shiny and free.

Broken from my reverie is where I sometimes wish to be,
for there I meet my life’s expenditure,
my loved reality.
There the marks of my imprint awaken; there I become me.

Fall then rain! Do so duly... for I vow to be
the rightful branch of your sprouting tree.

7 am promises lost to metamorphic beauty.
PETE
PETE
May 15, 2013      May 15, 2013

why here?
an ego that was spun. spun. sent spinning downward.
why now?
his hazel heart abandoned in the pure snow of brain.
love. is there anything else?
as flesh touches hardened images of self.
it hurt
stars. eyes. mocha minded thoughts.
come closer
crazed hands beneath soft blankets.
oh this?
7 am promises lost to metamorphic beauty.
this?
not remembering music. soul. twisted limbs.

Metamorphic restlessness
Johnny Raven
Johnny Raven
May 20, 2013

Addicted to the eyes
Emotional semantic fix
Not devoid of selfish lies...
Stumbling from the
Human race
The gift of God exploding
In my face
Just another promise, a
Melodramatic nod
I'm just your normal
Average
Illegitimate son of God
Metamorphic restlessness
Trying to catch the breath
In us
Schizophrenic aching head
Just another Godly ploy,
Necrophiliac Jesus toy
He's trying to
Fuck us dead!

- Johnny Raven
  © Copyright 1999

A metamorphic existence, penned
Essentian
Essentian
7 days ago

Thoughts, built on timeworn armor
sand, brick, slate spread miles
undercover all my considerations
you, me, and dog
is not god
A metamorphic existence, penned
broken fingers
lies exposed, weirdness unfolds
Speeding through quadratic time
The ticking in my head -
one, one, one, two, one
my lids stretched
eyes pinched, bulged
I am at a standstill, no motion
and my hands turning to stone

When your fingers simply rest on the keyboard*
#words   #him   #me   #hairball   #eyeswide  
in metamorphic rock?
Quinn
Quinn
May 8

how do you draw a line
in metamorphic rock?
between self growth
and selfishness
all of the lines
become so blurry,
it's like sobriety
means absolutely
nothing.

I wish that I could
put my brain in your
skull so that you
could understand
just what kind of
mountains I have climbed
and how close I feel
to the summit.

these blurred lines and
rock giants are better
left unsaid, but that
does not mean I don't
wish that you'd ask
what I'm thinking.

Your art had a metamorphic way
Urmila
Urmila
Sep 8

They were shattered pieces of glass,
In a jar I had kept away,
I thought I'd use them,
To create an artefact some day,
You found the jar in my closet,
I told you with this jar don't play,
You said you could make something beautiful,
With my shattered glass and your clay,
Then you made a masterpiece,
Your art had a metamorphic way
And although you broke your own creation,
Thank you, is all I could say

Metamorphic Rock soldier,

I refuse.
Driven waves by steady feet.
Metamorphic Rock soldier,
shaped by the wind,
but I am still here.
Evolution they fear;
I am my own.
My beaded drum,
I created its sound,
And so will move to
Its beat.
The Headed Index,
The Poisoned Voice;
The demons I
Have conquered.
They cannot understand it;
They cannot withstand it.
A force they cannot fathom,
Is a force they must destroy.
But I refuse.
Overcrowded BandWagon,
A Party of Four.
Tales of tails that fear their own
Direction.
I refuse.

Let me be metamorphic for awhile,
Kim Keith
Sep 10, 2010

Dawn stretches and yawns
in yellow, poking fingers
through vertical blind slats;
into my horizontal eyes.
Startling

like an ice cube slipping down spine,
painful and exhilarating
at the same time and maybe

I’m not ready to shove myself out.
Let me be metamorphic for awhile,

lie back in this brightness
and soak it in; let me radiate
warm throughout the morning,

cheerfully light at noon
and erode to dust in the night
so that it all may cycle again
like moon chasing sun,
serpent slurping tail
or a dog whirling circles in the dirt.

I want to swirl, right here
in comfortable cotton, nighttime
peace and the wreath that early Dawn
weaves into me.  Let me be centered
in the centrifuge: the stone in the storm.

First Published By: Halfway Down the Stairs (Sept. Issue--Beginnings and Ends) http://www.halfwaydownthestairs.net/index.php?action=view&id;=237
 
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