NeoDore - Hello Poetry

The gait of her walk? The way she talked? It seemed...different. Watching her stride across the room, abruptly whisking left and right. Slender, thin-jawed, blonde, unfazed, stern stare, luminescent skin. I've seen her repeat this very pattern several times before. But we've never talked. I just observe through my window. The window that is my world.

0

Mar 10, 2021

Mar 10, 2021 at 12:50 AM UTC

HER; Stranger

The gait of her walk? The way she talked? It seemed...different. Watching her stride across the room, abruptly whisking left and right. Slender, thin-jawed, blonde, unfazed, stern stare, luminescent skin. I've seen her repeat this very pattern several times before. But we've never talked. I just observe through my window. The window that is my world.

2

I used to be a romantic. Staring into her milky pearls, illuminated by the dusk orange, mango light glittering into mine. Lemon tinge saturated skin. Caressed by the salty wind, sometimes, I felt, even before mine. The grainy gold-ash pebbled ground like a powdered cushion, our feets sunk deep. Whisk, and whim of clashing waves, crashing into the shore. Nebulous sky blue mirror of perpetual unrest, trickles. Bickering seagulls on sandcastles. My olympian gaze at venus, her acoustic voice. Her arachnid stare into mine. She's a siren. I used to be a romantic. But she consumed me. She's consumed me and there's nothing left...Now I'm just a fool.

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Mar 10, 2021

Mar 10, 2021 at 12:33 AM UTC

rOMANTIC

I used to be a romantic. Staring into her milky pearls, illuminated by the dusk orange, mango light glittering into mine. Lemon tinge saturated skin. Caressed by the salty wind, sometimes, I felt, even before mine. The grainy gold-ash pebbled ground like a powdered cushion, our feets sunk deep. Whisk, and whim of clashing waves, crashing into the shore. Nebulous sky blue mirror of perpetual unrest, trickles. Bickering seagulls on sandcastles. My olympian gaze at venus, her acoustic voice. Her arachnid stare into mine. She's a siren. I used to be a romantic. But she consumed me. She's consumed me and there's nothing left...Now I'm just a fool.

3

The stage is a world of imagination. A place where our minds can run free without a sense of direction. As the characters make us fly through a catharsis of laugh and cries. A combination of gestures and movement, each playing their part in unison towards a certain fate Although the humor makes the audience forget the sorrow, pain, and misery of reality, as the scenes guide them, the acts show them and the actions amaze them of the destiny even in the conflict of scenes, all is done in resolution of the might and glory of an all-father, as people gather to watch the incredible power of God in play and they pause in amazement of the greatness of him as the impossible the eyes see in the beauty of the STAGE

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Oct 20, 2019

Oct 20, 2019 at 12:18 AM UTC

A Stage

The stage is a world of imagination. A place where our minds can run free without a sense of direction. As the characters make us fly through a catharsis of laugh and cries. A combination of gestures and movement, each playing their part in unison towards a certain fate Although the humor makes the audience forget the sorrow, pain, and misery of reality, as the scenes guide them, the acts show them and the actions amaze them of the destiny even in the conflict of scenes, all is done in resolution of the might and glory of an all-father, as people gather to watch the incredible power of God in play and they pause in amazement of the greatness of him as the impossible the eyes see in the beauty of the STAGE

3

Faint clap Lighting spontaneous scream -Thunder Dark and gloomy skies Raindrops The wind dances with the branches Creatures race to shelter Cold breeze whistles, kicks the grasses and drag the leaves The animals slowly wait and watch from the dancing trees Echoing caves and fading sandcastles a STORM

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Oct 20, 2019

Oct 20, 2019 at 12:09 AM UTC

Nature

Faint clap Lighting spontaneous scream -Thunder Dark and gloomy skies Raindrops The wind dances with the branches Creatures race to shelter Cold breeze whistles, kicks the grasses and drag the leaves The animals slowly wait and watch from the dancing trees Echoing caves and fading sandcastles a STORM

11

Hidden glare of strangers Maybe all over now even if you forgive me not I'll always be here with you Wake me when it's over Wake me to a place I know Hidden glare of strangers Will never go. You don't seem to understand Shame on all the fears we hold so dear You know what they say might hurt you Even if they'll never go.

0

Oct 11, 2019

Oct 11, 2019 at 1:39 PM UTC

The conversation

Hidden glare of strangers Maybe all over now even if you forgive me not I'll always be here with you Wake me when it's over Wake me to a place I know Hidden glare of strangers Will never go. You don't seem to understand Shame on all the fears we hold so dear You know what they say might hurt you Even if they'll never go.

12

School? Tsk...Tsk...Tsk. What a spectacle. I hear the bell chiming already- ding...ding...ding Then sick and scowled, we'd walk right to were we were meant to be. "Meant to be". Heart pounding 'cos if we were late!? Or in the wrong place or mixed up the wrong dates!? No...no...no that was trouble. "The bell is the voice of God" The priest(s) would say, each day, "and when it rings you must obey" A bell? I thought, the voice of God? I chuckled. I remember the shadows of the seminarians watching. The irate stare and feign smile. Weren't these men of God!? They came in new and good, but give them a day or two and...and my God!!! There were rumors of bizarre things that happened behind closed doors, no one "saw", but walls. I know someone was there. Had to be! When the last bell rang, and the lights faded out. People became monsters. It changes people. And it would, you too because real monsters are in the light and you too are one of them. The mass either left you hungry and empty, guilty and filthy or just feeling good about yourself for no good reason because some preacher said: "Hark, all worries will be left behind, and all disappoint too, will be gone forever..." It was the same thing, day in and day out. One man's crime was all mens'. And our tongue just clung to our mouth because who would dare raise a finger in anger to a priest? God's delegate. There were rumors. There were rumors no one would admit they saw until dusk when the light-out hour came and we streaked together muffle and scoffled about everything. It was either that or we tried, however, we could to get food. Some even looted goods, black and white was the code and we hid it safe as gold. You won't get it. Sometimes people would go as far as...sign Dong...dong...dong Heavy eyed and tired. The bell snaped you from your dream back to this hellfire. And before you blinked you were in class Then smell of dry papers and ink, sound of pens screeching and then you see. Students hastily walking to where they are meant to be? "Meant to be!?" Teachers, few, pretty as rose and others old and cold. All claiming they had gold to impact on us. Most times, the men, well tucked, some tall and maybe bit lanky. The priests were like ghosts. Some went as far as saying Godly. Their bellowing white-blue cassock whipped by, and while some would sigh, others would hush and some would rush to where they were meant to be. Meant to be. Now ghost quiet, staring from somewhere was the priest ghost silent... .

0

Oct 11, 2019

Oct 11, 2019 at 12:00 PM UTC

Boarding Skool

School? Tsk...Tsk...Tsk. What a spectacle. I hear the bell chiming already- ding...ding...ding Then sick and scowled, we'd walk right to were we were meant to be. "Meant to be". Heart pounding 'cos if we were late!? Or in the wrong place or mixed up the wrong dates!? No...no...no that was trouble. "The bell is the voice of God" The priest(s) would say, each day, "and when it rings you must obey" A bell? I thought, the voice of God? I chuckled. I remember the shadows of the seminarians watching. The irate stare and feign smile. Weren't these men of God!? They came in new and good, but give them a day or two and...and my God!!! There were rumors of bizarre things that happened behind closed doors, no one "saw", but walls. I know someone was there. Had to be! When the last bell rang, and the lights faded out. People became monsters. It changes people. And it would, you too because real monsters are in the light and you too are one of them. The mass either left you hungry and empty, guilty and filthy or just feeling good about yourself for no good reason because some preacher said: "Hark, all worries will be left behind, and all disappoint too, will be gone forever..." It was the same thing, day in and day out. One man's crime was all mens'. And our tongue just clung to our mouth because who would dare raise a finger in anger to a priest? God's delegate. There were rumors. There were rumors no one would admit they saw until dusk when the light-out hour came and we streaked together muffle and scoffled about everything. It was either that or we tried, however, we could to get food. Some even looted goods, black and white was the code and we hid it safe as gold. You won't get it. Sometimes people would go as far as...sign Dong...dong...dong Heavy eyed and tired. The bell snaped you from your dream back to this hellfire. And before you blinked you were in class Then smell of dry papers and ink, sound of pens screeching and then you see. Students hastily walking to where they are meant to be? "Meant to be!?" Teachers, few, pretty as rose and others old and cold. All claiming they had gold to impact on us. Most times, the men, well tucked, some tall and maybe bit lanky. The priests were like ghosts. Some went as far as saying Godly. Their bellowing white-blue cassock whipped by, and while some would sigh, others would hush and some would rush to where they were meant to be. Meant to be. Now ghost quiet, staring from somewhere was the priest ghost silent... .

15