Porto-graffiti - Hello Poetry

And thus she went Leaving behind her the many kind words And lingering hopes that make all good things seamless, But which fade like her perfume in places she slept. When I saw her face disappear Behind mirroring train reflections I saw those who stared when we waved Caught in the crossfire of our connection. They should know, as all should, how Our iron-clad love is feather armour Marking a true knight of the cloth The world's spasms worn about our backs with many gold brooches. Such it is to be anointed, to filter all out With your inestimable standards Held high for those to see How much she loves me.

0

Nov 12, 2023

Nov 12, 2023 at 7:25 AM UTC

Leaving

And thus she went Leaving behind her the many kind words And lingering hopes that make all good things seamless, But which fade like her perfume in places she slept. When I saw her face disappear Behind mirroring train reflections I saw those who stared when we waved Caught in the crossfire of our connection. They should know, as all should, how Our iron-clad love is feather armour Marking a true knight of the cloth The world's spasms worn about our backs with many gold brooches. Such it is to be anointed, to filter all out With your inestimable standards Held high for those to see How much she loves me.

16

The bright moments of the past do not die They do not lie idly in the earth, buried beneath unpassable tombs Their beauty does not fester or languish Their times come again They are reborn, are the bright things that come Those jewels dug up by autonomous spades They do not die, they are reborn Our excitement like an old friend reunited Do not mourn the past, it did not fall Left to rot, mummified in worms As a child when we picked it up, as an adult when we carry it Those moments live on with us Again

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Oct 25, 2021

Oct 25, 2021 at 2:21 PM UTC

Egyptian Moments

The bright moments of the past do not die They do not lie idly in the earth, buried beneath unpassable tombs Their beauty does not fester or languish Their times come again They are reborn, are the bright things that come Those jewels dug up by autonomous spades They do not die, they are reborn Our excitement like an old friend reunited Do not mourn the past, it did not fall Left to rot, mummified in worms As a child when we picked it up, as an adult when we carry it Those moments live on with us Again

13

I found a pool, small Of tepid waters, shallow Left imprinted by the things That long since grew big, climbed and, Sought the ocean I know the pool, I grew tall in it, Know it for what it was, once It seemed deep as the seas, wide as the horizon Brimmed with life a thousand-led By all the verdure of many beasts Each began as tadpoles, swam from their sacs and Knew magnitude, kept to the shallows Looked on at the lurching fish with, Fear. Met a generation in those Huddled beside them, scared. Growing, their arms and legs, Uniform in formlessness, ill-defined but Excited. Each learned to swim and laughed at Each other. Spiralling, gangling, twisting games Were played on shallow borders. Our bellies touched the silt, our eyes turned out And we flicked our feet to find the open air, and It wasn't so scary, terrible not, look at me! Look At me! I can go see those dark holes, hiding Nothing, I'm sure. Let's go. As we lost ourselves in the growing dark, we Lost sight of the other tadpoles, and Grew faces, eyes, mouths, antennae, or Unsure, we grew and each became streamline, in a thousand different ways, we swam to the centre of the pool. And met each other, as if for the first time, but Saw no similarity, saw only our differences, we Smiled and looked about, and each, in our own way, Discovered the light. We did not stop growing, did not think to, Knew no fear, saw no dark corners, scalps touched the open air. And we went, each found the same certainty at the same time. We must leave, a fish, a salamander, a boatman, a snake. Shed the oily waters and explored the fresh air. Some, Found they could not breathe, some found themselves prey to Unknown evils. None stayed, none I knew. I am back now, face weathered by winds I knew not were Out there, hands pricked by something called thorns, the Waters so small, tepid, stagnant, shallow from all the Absence, those things that now walk, or lie, or fly, I Know not why I came back, or why I look now into the puddle I see only frogs. I hear only croaks. Old things living in a drying world. Leathery, cold blooded, oily, Speaking only of the times when they were tadpoles, Thinking only of the time when they were new. I walk away, and shed the thoughts that link my path to them. I face the wind, I face the thorns. I feel my neck and Hold closed my gills with thumb and forefinger Forgetting... Croak.

0

Oct 25, 2021

Oct 25, 2021 at 2:17 PM UTC

Croak

I found a pool, small Of tepid waters, shallow Left imprinted by the things That long since grew big, climbed and, Sought the ocean I know the pool, I grew tall in it, Know it for what it was, once It seemed deep as the seas, wide as the horizon Brimmed with life a thousand-led By all the verdure of many beasts Each began as tadpoles, swam from their sacs and Knew magnitude, kept to the shallows Looked on at the lurching fish with, Fear. Met a generation in those Huddled beside them, scared. Growing, their arms and legs, Uniform in formlessness, ill-defined but Excited. Each learned to swim and laughed at Each other. Spiralling, gangling, twisting games Were played on shallow borders. Our bellies touched the silt, our eyes turned out And we flicked our feet to find the open air, and It wasn't so scary, terrible not, look at me! Look At me! I can go see those dark holes, hiding Nothing, I'm sure. Let's go. As we lost ourselves in the growing dark, we Lost sight of the other tadpoles, and Grew faces, eyes, mouths, antennae, or Unsure, we grew and each became streamline, in a thousand different ways, we swam to the centre of the pool. And met each other, as if for the first time, but Saw no similarity, saw only our differences, we Smiled and looked about, and each, in our own way, Discovered the light. We did not stop growing, did not think to, Knew no fear, saw no dark corners, scalps touched the open air. And we went, each found the same certainty at the same time. We must leave, a fish, a salamander, a boatman, a snake. Shed the oily waters and explored the fresh air. Some, Found they could not breathe, some found themselves prey to Unknown evils. None stayed, none I knew. I am back now, face weathered by winds I knew not were Out there, hands pricked by something called thorns, the Waters so small, tepid, stagnant, shallow from all the Absence, those things that now walk, or lie, or fly, I Know not why I came back, or why I look now into the puddle I see only frogs. I hear only croaks. Old things living in a drying world. Leathery, cold blooded, oily, Speaking only of the times when they were tadpoles, Thinking only of the time when they were new. I walk away, and shed the thoughts that link my path to them. I face the wind, I face the thorns. I feel my neck and Hold closed my gills with thumb and forefinger Forgetting... Croak.

54

I felt her on my belly A well fed boa Squatting for the day She writhed as my heart beat Drawing tighter to my Pinched breaths I saw wild eyes, glancing, prancing Sprites, friends of the serpent, Laughed, for I had fallen mute To the forest floor, and lay poisoned Shrinking before a gleeful crowd In love with an animal.

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Oct 24, 2021

Oct 24, 2021 at 9:55 AM UTC

Boa

I felt her on my belly A well fed boa Squatting for the day She writhed as my heart beat Drawing tighter to my Pinched breaths I saw wild eyes, glancing, prancing Sprites, friends of the serpent, Laughed, for I had fallen mute To the forest floor, and lay poisoned Shrinking before a gleeful crowd In love with an animal.

12

Embarrassment The first x on paper The first glint of gold The first step to success Embarrassment

0

Oct 24, 2021

Oct 24, 2021 at 9:47 AM UTC

Embarrassment

Embarrassment The first x on paper The first glint of gold The first step to success Embarrassment

5

What's the point of the stars if they only fly to mock us To tell of a world beyond that thick blanket of night A moon victory above them all tells of coliseums of the cosmos A giant in a game we were never asked to play The sun burns itself to nothing And we catch the ashes, plant fields with its offcuts Never tasting banquet, never knowing super nova Alone in the dirt beneath life Currents blow overhead, pushing ice and rock As balloons let adrift, finding freedom in emptiness While our feet only know tracks and fields, grass and mud Life with food and sleep, not soul or poetry. Crooked grow our limbs and we think ourselves mighty Gangly forms dancing tiny While great domes of landscapes given face Smile at each other and speak Venus, Apollo, Mercury, Hades All principles in the sky, too graceful to be understood And not wanting our foul tentacles of knowledge To grip them, happy to keep away from Us oily things. No, I don't like being human I don't like being greasy

0

Oct 22, 2021

Oct 22, 2021 at 11:16 AM UTC

Lead Feet, Dead Belief

What's the point of the stars if they only fly to mock us To tell of a world beyond that thick blanket of night A moon victory above them all tells of coliseums of the cosmos A giant in a game we were never asked to play The sun burns itself to nothing And we catch the ashes, plant fields with its offcuts Never tasting banquet, never knowing super nova Alone in the dirt beneath life Currents blow overhead, pushing ice and rock As balloons let adrift, finding freedom in emptiness While our feet only know tracks and fields, grass and mud Life with food and sleep, not soul or poetry. Crooked grow our limbs and we think ourselves mighty Gangly forms dancing tiny While great domes of landscapes given face Smile at each other and speak Venus, Apollo, Mercury, Hades All principles in the sky, too graceful to be understood And not wanting our foul tentacles of knowledge To grip them, happy to keep away from Us oily things. No, I don't like being human I don't like being greasy

24

Sorry said the merry man, adjacent on his way, I've gone and ticked you off while I've been out tramping today And in my careless frolic I seem to have stole your heart What brutal lust you blow towards me, gushing like a **** But I'm not la-da-dee-da-dee, a manly bearded sprite Jingle though my stirrups do like dormice held too tight I'm a serious enterprise, a man deeply invested In stacking stocks and picking prices, if you're interested? She danced reluctantly to him, unnatured to the rhythm But with a wink she start'd to slink and jim-jam along with him The two then picked their sandals up and shuffled down the street And drank and laughed amerrily at all they chanced to meet To the bank they wandered, legislating they did go In government, in finance, in high station to and fro Each day they yawned and gargled on a fresh new tonic smell And went on down the street to make a fresh mismanaged hell Soon agiggling and adultering they fell down in a mess Holes and tears ashaming his and her once modest dress There they lay and blocked the road till bobby picked them up And once they'd laughed their fill of him they bribed the greasy pup He took them to the city square and let them borrow his hat They gave out fines and sentences for being thin or fat They stood on boxes, had ideas for rent for half a pence And sat gracefully cross-eyed on the splintering picket fence Then donned a mitre, did a dance, their pageantry displayed, They became gods, just for a laugh, the vicarage dismayed When down from heaven lightning bolts, shot with a holy hum Came buzzing like a hornets' nest and shocked them on the *** A **** of smoke, a whiff of cheese, the townsfolk breathed release Gone at last those terrors past, they could return to peace Then up from high a saintly sigh two angels billowed down Golden halos greasy and no pants beneath their gown The townsfolk wept and cried aloud, their stomachs plopped and churned To see the pair of villains there, so gracefully returned Blessed be the kingmakers the two of them agreed Until next weekend, Duw my dear, and until then, God's speed.

0

Nov 28, 2020

Nov 28, 2020 at 10:00 AM UTC

God's Speed

Sorry said the merry man, adjacent on his way, I've gone and ticked you off while I've been out tramping today And in my careless frolic I seem to have stole your heart What brutal lust you blow towards me, gushing like a **** But I'm not la-da-dee-da-dee, a manly bearded sprite Jingle though my stirrups do like dormice held too tight I'm a serious enterprise, a man deeply invested In stacking stocks and picking prices, if you're interested? She danced reluctantly to him, unnatured to the rhythm But with a wink she start'd to slink and jim-jam along with him The two then picked their sandals up and shuffled down the street And drank and laughed amerrily at all they chanced to meet To the bank they wandered, legislating they did go In government, in finance, in high station to and fro Each day they yawned and gargled on a fresh new tonic smell And went on down the street to make a fresh mismanaged hell Soon agiggling and adultering they fell down in a mess Holes and tears ashaming his and her once modest dress There they lay and blocked the road till bobby picked them up And once they'd laughed their fill of him they bribed the greasy pup He took them to the city square and let them borrow his hat They gave out fines and sentences for being thin or fat They stood on boxes, had ideas for rent for half a pence And sat gracefully cross-eyed on the splintering picket fence Then donned a mitre, did a dance, their pageantry displayed, They became gods, just for a laugh, the vicarage dismayed When down from heaven lightning bolts, shot with a holy hum Came buzzing like a hornets' nest and shocked them on the *** A **** of smoke, a whiff of cheese, the townsfolk breathed release Gone at last those terrors past, they could return to peace Then up from high a saintly sigh two angels billowed down Golden halos greasy and no pants beneath their gown The townsfolk wept and cried aloud, their stomachs plopped and churned To see the pair of villains there, so gracefully returned Blessed be the kingmakers the two of them agreed Until next weekend, Duw my dear, and until then, God's speed.

36

My tongue sharpened today Angles fell off it like classroom fancies Rationalised to a point, its first act Was to knock out my fangs from behind. I stumbled about the house Slopped through the bathroom door And foamed at the toilet seat, a Wave broken over a rim of briny coral. My salt winked about the walls, around the tap, between the wiped tiles In the shower head of porous sponge The seaweed in the pipes crawled up And drowned me in the sickly sweet. Downstairs smelt the same, logically the sea dumped down Underwater fish glided past my window, all with the same Grim face against the mirrors, aping the ocean With me trapped inside. I turned on the same song, fifteen times, The sound tried to reach me with such ambition But it floated to the top, belly up in its bubbles Ridiculous, I scratched the date on the seafloor and entered the kitchen. Drips everywhere, grease stalactites, from the tiles, the yawning oven, the spatulas A Cretaceous museum where savagery is kept In little plastic boxes, with clear peelable lids A fresh, messy **** In the hall the grey light descends through slit windows Colour settling at the bottom like grit, all the greys so tall Give the narrow rectangle an aftertaste of dust Just one keeper before me It devours my key, hacking as it gobbles But it does not anticipate my twist I gut it from inside, it spits its meal back at me And I swing its limp, dead frame 90 degrees. Stepping out feels like a moonwalk, with Houston's neutral formulas Unheeded in my ear, finally I can greet the clouds, that probably escaped, Like me, fumes from the chimney Pale and fading away from lack of auspicious sun.

0

Nov 10, 2020

Nov 10, 2020 at 1:15 PM UTC

Clouds

My tongue sharpened today Angles fell off it like classroom fancies Rationalised to a point, its first act Was to knock out my fangs from behind. I stumbled about the house Slopped through the bathroom door And foamed at the toilet seat, a Wave broken over a rim of briny coral. My salt winked about the walls, around the tap, between the wiped tiles In the shower head of porous sponge The seaweed in the pipes crawled up And drowned me in the sickly sweet. Downstairs smelt the same, logically the sea dumped down Underwater fish glided past my window, all with the same Grim face against the mirrors, aping the ocean With me trapped inside. I turned on the same song, fifteen times, The sound tried to reach me with such ambition But it floated to the top, belly up in its bubbles Ridiculous, I scratched the date on the seafloor and entered the kitchen. Drips everywhere, grease stalactites, from the tiles, the yawning oven, the spatulas A Cretaceous museum where savagery is kept In little plastic boxes, with clear peelable lids A fresh, messy **** In the hall the grey light descends through slit windows Colour settling at the bottom like grit, all the greys so tall Give the narrow rectangle an aftertaste of dust Just one keeper before me It devours my key, hacking as it gobbles But it does not anticipate my twist I gut it from inside, it spits its meal back at me And I swing its limp, dead frame 90 degrees. Stepping out feels like a moonwalk, with Houston's neutral formulas Unheeded in my ear, finally I can greet the clouds, that probably escaped, Like me, fumes from the chimney Pale and fading away from lack of auspicious sun.

36

At night the stars seem far away, But through the dark is light and day.

0

Nov 9, 2020

Nov 9, 2020 at 7:17 AM UTC

Night

At night the stars seem far away, But through the dark is light and day.

2

My poem's salt comes from the sea Awash with flailing kelp And absorbed light, hidden and sweet Like me. It rakes the gravel with its fingers Cooly rushing over its skin Absorbed and intended back again When the sun blushes ruby red. Little seals dot the waves Mirroring the clouds Chuckling through their whiskers, beckoning At the dogs on shore, faithful cousins To these rotund sprites. The dried up fields are far away They gasp for the rain that's closing in With the prettiest grey clouds Crickets jump from the Terra Cotta And spill the Summer air, little breaths. While ores seep into the mass of blue Rather than be claimed, and turn the bottom muddy In pinks and oranges dulled by the jealous green. The fish enriched begin to talk And their blessings pip pop upwards. I think it's beautiful that air goes down down deep and finds the things that need to breathe. If only I could follow it And be consumed by some crease And become the ocean too.

0

Sep 12, 2020

Sep 12, 2020 at 4:38 PM UTC

Skim Me Overseas

My poem's salt comes from the sea Awash with flailing kelp And absorbed light, hidden and sweet Like me. It rakes the gravel with its fingers Cooly rushing over its skin Absorbed and intended back again When the sun blushes ruby red. Little seals dot the waves Mirroring the clouds Chuckling through their whiskers, beckoning At the dogs on shore, faithful cousins To these rotund sprites. The dried up fields are far away They gasp for the rain that's closing in With the prettiest grey clouds Crickets jump from the Terra Cotta And spill the Summer air, little breaths. While ores seep into the mass of blue Rather than be claimed, and turn the bottom muddy In pinks and oranges dulled by the jealous green. The fish enriched begin to talk And their blessings pip pop upwards. I think it's beautiful that air goes down down deep and finds the things that need to breathe. If only I could follow it And be consumed by some crease And become the ocean too.

28