FireLight - Hello Poetry

I want something I can't have you ever seen the sky so blue you forgot red and yellow?

0

Jan 21, 2022

Jan 21, 2022 at 10:55 AM UTC

I want something I can't have you ever seen the sky so blue you forgot red and yellow?

My life is dripping out of my hands fingers aren't watertight sticky palms sticky jeans red streaks down my shirt Just a little puddle, cupped and the **** thing's dripping out. Run down my wrists smear in my elbows stain my shirt sleeves blue, my tears are chapped lips run dry watch as I drown in my favorite hue.

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Dec 17, 2021

Dec 17, 2021 at 11:35 AM UTC

Surface tension

My life is dripping out of my hands fingers aren't watertight sticky palms sticky jeans red streaks down my shirt Just a little puddle, cupped and the **** thing's dripping out. Run down my wrists smear in my elbows stain my shirt sleeves blue, my tears are chapped lips run dry watch as I drown in my favorite hue.

14

I’ve been walking around inside-out for a few years now if I fall my heart just may burst, so my nerves won’t let me near you.

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Dec 16, 2021

Dec 16, 2021 at 10:36 AM UTC

Open

I’ve been walking around inside-out for a few years now if I fall my heart just may burst, so my nerves won’t let me near you.

5

Fit in a new gear ***** ***** ***** but no clock is perfect This one runs a little fast a little strained ***** ***** ***** ***** and now the metal's creaking.

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Nov 25, 2020

Nov 25, 2020 at 11:38 PM UTC

No clock is perfect

Fit in a new gear ***** ***** ***** but no clock is perfect This one runs a little fast a little strained ***** ***** ***** ***** and now the metal's creaking.

7

I stopped beside a summer brook and could only see what the winter took the banking stone was laid out bare a few scattered lichens here and there. But standing at my kneeling feet one tuft of grass the wind couldn't beat its leaves were calloused, stained winter-green face shining skyward, labors unseen. I stared at the gnarled thing as the years grew thick in my throat I couldn't remember its first little shoots But here it was standing, with deep, deep roots.

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May 29, 2020

May 29, 2020 at 12:01 PM UTC

Old discovery

I stopped beside a summer brook and could only see what the winter took the banking stone was laid out bare a few scattered lichens here and there. But standing at my kneeling feet one tuft of grass the wind couldn't beat its leaves were calloused, stained winter-green face shining skyward, labors unseen. I stared at the gnarled thing as the years grew thick in my throat I couldn't remember its first little shoots But here it was standing, with deep, deep roots.

12

Impatiently the flakes of snow brushed off the dust on his cheek- Half of the still face of a man lying prone in a thin plastic seat His heart in his cavernous hand, his loss in the bustling street She nary spent a moment's stop to take in the man on the bench, But the brush on his skin lingered in her pensive walk to work What was it to know the wind's desolate blow? Have no one around but the ice and the snow? What thoughts could he have spent? Yet she bled into the distant crowd covering up the concrete They went about their various worlds entranced with disbodied sorrows Taking the chance to dream about the far-off worlds of others But no raw comprehension of the man on the bench or glancing sidestep could stay; One by one, heart to mind, All of them walked away.

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Nov 14, 2018

Nov 14, 2018 at 11:21 PM UTC

of this City, Rewritten

Impatiently the flakes of snow brushed off the dust on his cheek- Half of the still face of a man lying prone in a thin plastic seat His heart in his cavernous hand, his loss in the bustling street She nary spent a moment's stop to take in the man on the bench, But the brush on his skin lingered in her pensive walk to work What was it to know the wind's desolate blow? Have no one around but the ice and the snow? What thoughts could he have spent? Yet she bled into the distant crowd covering up the concrete They went about their various worlds entranced with disbodied sorrows Taking the chance to dream about the far-off worlds of others But no raw comprehension of the man on the bench or glancing sidestep could stay; One by one, heart to mind, All of them walked away.

15

The sweat was dripping down my face and under my skin, pulsing like veins Time is a funny, blurry sort of thing when your mind can’t keep up, when your feet take the reins You’re doing what you thought couldn’t be done before since you just wouldn’t stand to close any single door I’ve made my point, I’m standing strong, but increasingly it seems your eyes are closing fleas are buzzing and you don’t know what you’re doing anymore There’s an odd sort of irony in living to let your brain turn off in working to avoid having work to do in fighting your muscles just to keep still And when my feet have dragged me home they transfer their will to my hands possessed to pull out chains of thoughts I didn’t consent to give away and my eyelids fan the darkness while everyone else has gone to sleep I hear my brain whisper my name but the work’s not done, I must not sleep As far as the world has revealed to you If you slow down, you fall behind but in sparing moments when the fog lifts I can see with clarity the change I’ve travelled through I find my legs are far too long, my arms are strangely strong you hadn’t noticed before, but I hardly fit in my bed anymore how long has it been since I’ve been me?

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Jun 25, 2018

Jun 25, 2018 at 1:12 PM UTC

Ongoing

The sweat was dripping down my face and under my skin, pulsing like veins Time is a funny, blurry sort of thing when your mind can’t keep up, when your feet take the reins You’re doing what you thought couldn’t be done before since you just wouldn’t stand to close any single door I’ve made my point, I’m standing strong, but increasingly it seems your eyes are closing fleas are buzzing and you don’t know what you’re doing anymore There’s an odd sort of irony in living to let your brain turn off in working to avoid having work to do in fighting your muscles just to keep still And when my feet have dragged me home they transfer their will to my hands possessed to pull out chains of thoughts I didn’t consent to give away and my eyelids fan the darkness while everyone else has gone to sleep I hear my brain whisper my name but the work’s not done, I must not sleep As far as the world has revealed to you If you slow down, you fall behind but in sparing moments when the fog lifts I can see with clarity the change I’ve travelled through I find my legs are far too long, my arms are strangely strong you hadn’t noticed before, but I hardly fit in my bed anymore how long has it been since I’ve been me?

29

What is the meaning of this? She certainly wanted to know. A man on a bench a step to the side And surely those clouds will bring snow She was returning to work as many around her And pondering this as she went What was it to know the brush of the snow Have no one around but the ice and the snow What thoughts could he have spent? Yes, but she went on her way walking away walking away from the man on the bench Would he have done the same for her? The sidewalk was filled with lonely people they surrounded each other in thought They dreamed of sadness, sorrow, defeat But none would touch an other. None would touch another.

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Mar 4, 2018

Mar 4, 2018 at 10:55 PM UTC

of this City

What is the meaning of this? She certainly wanted to know. A man on a bench a step to the side And surely those clouds will bring snow She was returning to work as many around her And pondering this as she went What was it to know the brush of the snow Have no one around but the ice and the snow What thoughts could he have spent? Yes, but she went on her way walking away walking away from the man on the bench Would he have done the same for her? The sidewalk was filled with lonely people they surrounded each other in thought They dreamed of sadness, sorrow, defeat But none would touch an other. None would touch another.

21

~ He knew in his heart there was nowhere to go. He knew with his eyes there was nothing to know. He knew with his hands there was nobody there He knew from his lies there was no one to spare. He listened but didn't hear He saw but didn't look There was nothing for him Naught in the air not a thought, not a limb that he could feel that he could conjure He was desperately calm and there was nothing to listen It might be a city it might be a glade It might be a person it might be a blade It was the same, the same the same without saying Without anything. it was all the same He had himself and himself was fraying he wasn't swimming they weren't moving he was unseeing they saw the bench A bench? No, he was sure absurdly unsure of nothing Why was he trying? He wasn't trying. He could feel his limbs but they didn't belong to him Is this it? The bench It's always the same Yes, he thought, it is the same The bench Nothing ceasing didn't matter Hands and lips, fluttering fluttering on, eyes staring on There was nobody, nowhere The bench. Nothing. What did he know? What did his hands hide? The moving statues, were they the same? The bench! No- The bench! Wait!--

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Mar 3, 2018

Mar 3, 2018 at 2:10 PM UTC

Deathly Cold in the Streets

~ He knew in his heart there was nowhere to go. He knew with his eyes there was nothing to know. He knew with his hands there was nobody there He knew from his lies there was no one to spare. He listened but didn't hear He saw but didn't look There was nothing for him Naught in the air not a thought, not a limb that he could feel that he could conjure He was desperately calm and there was nothing to listen It might be a city it might be a glade It might be a person it might be a blade It was the same, the same the same without saying Without anything. it was all the same He had himself and himself was fraying he wasn't swimming they weren't moving he was unseeing they saw the bench A bench? No, he was sure absurdly unsure of nothing Why was he trying? He wasn't trying. He could feel his limbs but they didn't belong to him Is this it? The bench It's always the same Yes, he thought, it is the same The bench Nothing ceasing didn't matter Hands and lips, fluttering fluttering on, eyes staring on There was nobody, nowhere The bench. Nothing. What did he know? What did his hands hide? The moving statues, were they the same? The bench! No- The bench! Wait!--

54

I'm in a hall made out of cards my going ever narrows through its walls I see the halls of others travelling near Theirs are wide and tall and sound for why must this be so? For if I stretched reached through my cards surely they'd all downfall But I refuse to stop. Refuse to stop. Inching through my hall of cards stops are many frequent as ice slices deep in frame but still I will go on I walk and walk and walk and walk and walk and walk and walk and walk and walk and walk and walk and walk Should I stop? Maybe this hall is to fall and then I would be free but if it was not, is not then wherever would I be? Would I break down all of it the whole careful facade? Would I ruin all of it by daring to stray from the path? no, no I better stay. no, no I better not stray. No, no, it's not the hero's way, but... No No it's better this way.

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Jan 1, 2018

Jan 1, 2018 at 12:21 PM UTC

Hall of Cards

I'm in a hall made out of cards my going ever narrows through its walls I see the halls of others travelling near Theirs are wide and tall and sound for why must this be so? For if I stretched reached through my cards surely they'd all downfall But I refuse to stop. Refuse to stop. Inching through my hall of cards stops are many frequent as ice slices deep in frame but still I will go on I walk and walk and walk and walk and walk and walk and walk and walk and walk and walk and walk and walk Should I stop? Maybe this hall is to fall and then I would be free but if it was not, is not then wherever would I be? Would I break down all of it the whole careful facade? Would I ruin all of it by daring to stray from the path? no, no I better stay. no, no I better not stray. No, no, it's not the hero's way, but... No No it's better this way.

36