Terebravisse - Hello Poetry

There is no sweeter sound Than the listless sighs of Those who love For the sake of Love alone - For him to have no secret aspirations Except to keep her warm For the sake of keeping her warm And warm alone

0

Feb 14, 2015

Feb 14, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC

Love

There is no sweeter sound Than the listless sighs of Those who love For the sake of Love alone - For him to have no secret aspirations Except to keep her warm For the sake of keeping her warm And warm alone

9

A silver spiral runs from the roof of the tallest skyscraper up into the sky All the way up 'til it hits the clouds and disappears The streets beneath are full of fears But the silver spiral sheds no tears.

0

Feb 11, 2015

Feb 11, 2015 at 11:57 AM UTC

Hope

A silver spiral runs from the roof of the tallest skyscraper up into the sky All the way up 'til it hits the clouds and disappears The streets beneath are full of fears But the silver spiral sheds no tears.

4

Please, All the dishwashers I've refilled: Pass them along to the lollipop guild. Sincerely, Me.

0

Dec 26, 2014

Dec 26, 2014 at 11:32 AM UTC

Chosen

Please, All the dishwashers I've refilled: Pass them along to the lollipop guild. Sincerely, Me.

5

If I pooled my existence into a neat, little timeline Pointing out specific places where my life had changed for the better Showing-off people who have influenced me and made me who I am today with little red flags If I decided to catalog my life so far on a long, thin, black bar You would be at the center At the beginning, and at the end And in all places, all spaces All times, memories, triumphs, losses, and happenstances The black line would be red as a crimson bow And your name would be leading the way to my future like a pillar of fire Without you, that line would be stark and stripped and plain You've made me who I am today You've been there every step of the way And I can only hope I haven't been too big of a pain I love you Because you've been my saving grace.

0

Dec 9, 2014

Dec 9, 2014 at 11:44 PM UTC

Untitled

If I pooled my existence into a neat, little timeline Pointing out specific places where my life had changed for the better Showing-off people who have influenced me and made me who I am today with little red flags If I decided to catalog my life so far on a long, thin, black bar You would be at the center At the beginning, and at the end And in all places, all spaces All times, memories, triumphs, losses, and happenstances The black line would be red as a crimson bow And your name would be leading the way to my future like a pillar of fire Without you, that line would be stark and stripped and plain You've made me who I am today You've been there every step of the way And I can only hope I haven't been too big of a pain I love you Because you've been my saving grace.

16

**skeleton man meets the dust and rusts** his white bone is vacant of red. **skeleton man keeps a key in his pocket** It's a locket That stores his heart and soul. **skeleton man walks with a limp: an eerily timorous skip like some frightened child** he's a ghost That lives And never dies. **skeleton man's cheeks are hollow and his smile is splintered and his hugs are cold** he's old full of mold he's decaying. **skeleton man walks alone with the desert dust and the broken, wagon wheel and the black raven's croak and the dissidence of a million nights spent listening to imaginary voices in the wind forever and ever and ever and ever**

0

Dec 9, 2014

Dec 9, 2014 at 5:11 PM UTC

Skeleton Man

**skeleton man meets the dust and rusts** his white bone is vacant of red. **skeleton man keeps a key in his pocket** It's a locket That stores his heart and soul. **skeleton man walks with a limp: an eerily timorous skip like some frightened child** he's a ghost That lives And never dies. **skeleton man's cheeks are hollow and his smile is splintered and his hugs are cold** he's old full of mold he's decaying. **skeleton man walks alone with the desert dust and the broken, wagon wheel and the black raven's croak and the dissidence of a million nights spent listening to imaginary voices in the wind forever and ever and ever and ever**

27

The clouds are somber -Your hair smells like wildflowers- The wind is furious -You dance like a wild Lakota- The storm has started -You grab my hand and smile- Thunder strikes -You offer me shelter from the rain- Lightning sears and sizzles -I follow and soon forget my pain-

0

Dec 9, 2014

Dec 9, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC

Untitled

The clouds are somber -Your hair smells like wildflowers- The wind is furious -You dance like a wild Lakota- The storm has started -You grab my hand and smile- Thunder strikes -You offer me shelter from the rain- Lightning sears and sizzles -I follow and soon forget my pain-

10

Off the silvery coast A starving shipwreck flees To escape, what can it be? Just a murdered vessel's remains left at sea - On the open wilds, the woody plains of life There always will be strife A young woman turned to wife But she don't love - In the icy wilderness, a man treads stoutly on He is lost, but feels at home The darkest place is safe, secure, and silent. - The hermit waits away the days in shadow, without sun The hermit waits away the days in peace, without a soul. The hermit has no need to wander wearily away Until the break of day What are the chances that he'll stay? What are the chances that they'll understand me? - You walk a pace, the human race, divided, in your hands A beach In water Sand They never come together They are separate. - Each one wishes, waits to show That they indeed are real They they indeed can feel That their hearts aren't made of steel And if pacts were signed they'd boot across the shores to face their fears. - A man will show his lover the hidden secrets of his heart And if they break apart The secrets will run lost in callous hands - Would it be better to isolate? Or learn to face the pain? I am lost in hail and rain And my head is breaking out with sores and sorrows - The hermit waits away the days in shadow, without sun The hermit waits away the days in peace, without a soul. The hermit has no need to wander For he has found himself in silence And there's no need for alliance No secrets shared, nor hidden passage found.

0

Dec 7, 2014

Dec 7, 2014 at 8:23 PM UTC

The Recluse

Off the silvery coast A starving shipwreck flees To escape, what can it be? Just a murdered vessel's remains left at sea - On the open wilds, the woody plains of life There always will be strife A young woman turned to wife But she don't love - In the icy wilderness, a man treads stoutly on He is lost, but feels at home The darkest place is safe, secure, and silent. - The hermit waits away the days in shadow, without sun The hermit waits away the days in peace, without a soul. The hermit has no need to wander wearily away Until the break of day What are the chances that he'll stay? What are the chances that they'll understand me? - You walk a pace, the human race, divided, in your hands A beach In water Sand They never come together They are separate. - Each one wishes, waits to show That they indeed are real They they indeed can feel That their hearts aren't made of steel And if pacts were signed they'd boot across the shores to face their fears. - A man will show his lover the hidden secrets of his heart And if they break apart The secrets will run lost in callous hands - Would it be better to isolate? Or learn to face the pain? I am lost in hail and rain And my head is breaking out with sores and sorrows - The hermit waits away the days in shadow, without sun The hermit waits away the days in peace, without a soul. The hermit has no need to wander For he has found himself in silence And there's no need for alliance No secrets shared, nor hidden passage found.

49

I speak, but I can't because words fail me I jump, but I'm always pulled down by gravity I reach, but an invisible voice tells me I'm too small, don't even try I cry, but my tears are parched and dry I scream, but all that comes out is air I bleed, but the bleeding is clogged I run, but the farthest I get is to the floor I gasp. This can't last. Time is my enemy. How to not disgrace my existence? what resistance is stopping me besides myself?

0

Dec 6, 2014

Dec 6, 2014 at 6:10 PM UTC

Untitled

I speak, but I can't because words fail me I jump, but I'm always pulled down by gravity I reach, but an invisible voice tells me I'm too small, don't even try I cry, but my tears are parched and dry I scream, but all that comes out is air I bleed, but the bleeding is clogged I run, but the farthest I get is to the floor I gasp. This can't last. Time is my enemy. How to not disgrace my existence? what resistance is stopping me besides myself?

10

The room was clouded with wisps of smoke, the smell of cheep tobacco mixing with the foul fetter of Budweiser's. Heavy boots crowded the compact living room, some pacing on the floor, others resting on stools, and one certain pair standing on the couch. As the evening waned, their owners smoked and drank and composed. The fan droned on above the huddle of men, attempting to counter-act the thick, humid air and suffocating clouds of smoke. Likewise, the window hung open, a slight breeze entering in, attempting to remind the men that outside there was spring. However, not even the sweet smell of growing grass and greening pine trees could awaken the thinking mass of musicians. Under the soft whirring of the fan hummed a gentle strum of acoustic guitars, two were in sync, one was free to do what he pleased. At first the song was melancholy, an almost sickening minor protruding through the chords. However, the two guitars which played this mournful tune were soon over-ruled by the lone guitar, this guitar introducing an almost ****** tune, sweet with lively colors, walks in the park; moody with aromatic evenings spent in wild-flower fields and peaceful nights sitting by the river, fishing and playing Texas Hold'em for pennies. This strum of chords soon awakened the other musicians and as their ears perked up to the sound their eyes fell upon the man, the man with the boots that stood on the couch. As the groups' gaze circled onto the man, he finished with a lulling C sharp minor and pulled the smoldering cigarette from his mouth, cocking his head towards the men and smirking ever so slightly as he proclaimed in his proud, deep, southern accent, an eyebrow raising to mark their heedfulness, "And there, gentlemen, is true music."

0

Dec 6, 2014

Dec 6, 2014 at 12:02 PM UTC

Musicians

The room was clouded with wisps of smoke, the smell of cheep tobacco mixing with the foul fetter of Budweiser's. Heavy boots crowded the compact living room, some pacing on the floor, others resting on stools, and one certain pair standing on the couch. As the evening waned, their owners smoked and drank and composed. The fan droned on above the huddle of men, attempting to counter-act the thick, humid air and suffocating clouds of smoke. Likewise, the window hung open, a slight breeze entering in, attempting to remind the men that outside there was spring. However, not even the sweet smell of growing grass and greening pine trees could awaken the thinking mass of musicians. Under the soft whirring of the fan hummed a gentle strum of acoustic guitars, two were in sync, one was free to do what he pleased. At first the song was melancholy, an almost sickening minor protruding through the chords. However, the two guitars which played this mournful tune were soon over-ruled by the lone guitar, this guitar introducing an almost ****** tune, sweet with lively colors, walks in the park; moody with aromatic evenings spent in wild-flower fields and peaceful nights sitting by the river, fishing and playing Texas Hold'em for pennies. This strum of chords soon awakened the other musicians and as their ears perked up to the sound their eyes fell upon the man, the man with the boots that stood on the couch. As the groups' gaze circled onto the man, he finished with a lulling C sharp minor and pulled the smoldering cigarette from his mouth, cocking his head towards the men and smirking ever so slightly as he proclaimed in his proud, deep, southern accent, an eyebrow raising to mark their heedfulness, "And there, gentlemen, is true music."

9

Baby leaves a' blooming Nuzzled up to sunbeams Shimmering and radiating Joy and Youth - Storm clouds a' looming Atmospheric wonder Oh, I hear the thunder: Fear and Pain - Aged man a' brooding His lungs are giving out on him Stubborn years of smoking left Anger and regret - Little kids a' laughing ***** are bouncing everywhere Not a worry, nor a care, jus' Ignorance and Fun - Kind momma a' crooning Smiling so softly She knows she incepts Both Love and Hate - For baby is a' crying Coddled in his mother's arms He has the potential To Help or to Harm. - To Help or to Harm.

0

Dec 6, 2014

Dec 6, 2014 at 11:21 AM UTC

Potential

Baby leaves a' blooming Nuzzled up to sunbeams Shimmering and radiating Joy and Youth - Storm clouds a' looming Atmospheric wonder Oh, I hear the thunder: Fear and Pain - Aged man a' brooding His lungs are giving out on him Stubborn years of smoking left Anger and regret - Little kids a' laughing ***** are bouncing everywhere Not a worry, nor a care, jus' Ignorance and Fun - Kind momma a' crooning Smiling so softly She knows she incepts Both Love and Hate - For baby is a' crying Coddled in his mother's arms He has the potential To Help or to Harm. - To Help or to Harm.

31