The_Kindling - Hello Poetry

I think it’s important for you to know, The line between love passion, fire, light, heat And hate passion, embers, dim, heat Is the treatment you give me.

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Aug 28, 2021

Aug 28, 2021 at 11:07 PM UTC

Ember light

I think it’s important for you to know, The line between love passion, fire, light, heat And hate passion, embers, dim, heat Is the treatment you give me.

6

Evening jokes and candle dinners, Potted flowers hammock hours. I miss walks along the beach, Holding hands and making plans. I even miss arguments and hurt feelings, Working things out, and relearning what love is all about. I don’t miss you. This is true. For you were wicked and cruel. I don’t miss *** or getting your text, As each word manipulation, each night of passion a hoax. I would rather like to live again, And make plans and joke and spoil and spend, I would rather cuddle and my life to end, To never need love again, Because I would rather live laugh live beside you, My friend.

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Jul 20, 2021

Jul 20, 2021 at 4:22 AM UTC

What I miss and don’t miss

Evening jokes and candle dinners, Potted flowers hammock hours. I miss walks along the beach, Holding hands and making plans. I even miss arguments and hurt feelings, Working things out, and relearning what love is all about. I don’t miss you. This is true. For you were wicked and cruel. I don’t miss *** or getting your text, As each word manipulation, each night of passion a hoax. I would rather like to live again, And make plans and joke and spoil and spend, I would rather cuddle and my life to end, To never need love again, Because I would rather live laugh live beside you, My friend.

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Label me as you please: Virgo. Hufflepuff. ENFP. Liberal. Democrat. All of these are wrong. I’m actually just Broken.

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Jul 19, 2021

Jul 19, 2021 at 1:15 AM UTC

I have been Many Things

Label me as you please: Virgo. Hufflepuff. ENFP. Liberal. Democrat. All of these are wrong. I’m actually just Broken.

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One plus one makes two, One me. One you. Two plus two makes four, Two lovers. One ***** Never again count me in, When you cheat at cards, neither win. You cut me deep, you sliced so thin. You provoked, Seven deadly sins. Six feet under. No where to run. Five more minutes. BeFour I come. Three quarters cocked, my two barreled gun. One thing in mine, Zero regret.

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Apr 12, 2020

Apr 12, 2020 at 4:36 AM UTC

The seven of Spades.

One plus one makes two, One me. One you. Two plus two makes four, Two lovers. One ***** Never again count me in, When you cheat at cards, neither win. You cut me deep, you sliced so thin. You provoked, Seven deadly sins. Six feet under. No where to run. Five more minutes. BeFour I come. Three quarters cocked, my two barreled gun. One thing in mine, Zero regret.

15

Contained Myself a mime, Pushing the boundaries of my world. An extrovert trapped, In an introverted nightmare. Escape me O Lord, From this bitter place. Free me my white washed walls. Walk among rows of the sick and the dying Find each of us in a corner Silenced screaming sanity unhinged Scrambling symptomatic soliloquy, End this madness. Or end me.

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Mar 18, 2020

Mar 18, 2020 at 6:43 PM UTC

Solitude

Contained Myself a mime, Pushing the boundaries of my world. An extrovert trapped, In an introverted nightmare. Escape me O Lord, From this bitter place. Free me my white washed walls. Walk among rows of the sick and the dying Find each of us in a corner Silenced screaming sanity unhinged Scrambling symptomatic soliloquy, End this madness. Or end me.

13

Two faces stare lovingly at one another. Once unified, they were Broken. Broken by time. By the world. By force. A great chasm eroded between them. Each tear drop another waterfall. Each face made from the destruction of the other. One cliff face across from another, For Eternity. Separate. Alone. * A boy stands above an ancient tomb. A tomb of two lovers doomed to death. Behind the boy is a girl. A pretty girl with cute freckles, Kissed by the sun. The sun as orange as her hair, Smiling a new day to the boy. Together they cross the chasm. The boy lays himself down across the gap. Happily the girl walks across his body, Learning him through every footfall. Living years in seconds she crosses. Walking past ancient warning signs. Signs of those who crossed the bridge before, Those who ran across, Those who crushed his hands, Those who cracked his spine His hands His soul. She stepped foot on land, Grabbed the boys hands. They made eye contact and for a second the world stopped. The two cliff faces looked up at the boy who was a bridge for hundreds. Then they wept as the girl dropped his hands. Plumiting the boy down. Down. Down. Deep below the tears of long ago. • • • Time went on. The boy recovered. Brushed clean, Walked the path discovered, Atop the ravine. There he sat. Brushed clean, Waiting for the next passenger. To never look back.

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Mar 1, 2020

Mar 1, 2020 at 10:54 PM UTC

Cross Over

Two faces stare lovingly at one another. Once unified, they were Broken. Broken by time. By the world. By force. A great chasm eroded between them. Each tear drop another waterfall. Each face made from the destruction of the other. One cliff face across from another, For Eternity. Separate. Alone. * A boy stands above an ancient tomb. A tomb of two lovers doomed to death. Behind the boy is a girl. A pretty girl with cute freckles, Kissed by the sun. The sun as orange as her hair, Smiling a new day to the boy. Together they cross the chasm. The boy lays himself down across the gap. Happily the girl walks across his body, Learning him through every footfall. Living years in seconds she crosses. Walking past ancient warning signs. Signs of those who crossed the bridge before, Those who ran across, Those who crushed his hands, Those who cracked his spine His hands His soul. She stepped foot on land, Grabbed the boys hands. They made eye contact and for a second the world stopped. The two cliff faces looked up at the boy who was a bridge for hundreds. Then they wept as the girl dropped his hands. Plumiting the boy down. Down. Down. Deep below the tears of long ago. • • • Time went on. The boy recovered. Brushed clean, Walked the path discovered, Atop the ravine. There he sat. Brushed clean, Waiting for the next passenger. To never look back.

52

Whimsical rhyme ~ With modern time ~ What may be? The future of me? Knowing my past. I'll probably finish last. Will I be a star? Drive a fancy car? Or will I be poor. Going door to door. Will I be successful? Career and family and fed and full? Or will I be alone. Withered starved to the bone. Oh God what if I fail. What if I dont preva- **** this rhyme Existential crisis don't rhyme. They don't fit fancy couplets And prose. They just ****

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Feb 1, 2020

Feb 1, 2020 at 2:47 AM UTC

Existential

Whimsical rhyme ~ With modern time ~ What may be? The future of me? Knowing my past. I'll probably finish last. Will I be a star? Drive a fancy car? Or will I be poor. Going door to door. Will I be successful? Career and family and fed and full? Or will I be alone. Withered starved to the bone. Oh God what if I fail. What if I dont preva- **** this rhyme Existential crisis don't rhyme. They don't fit fancy couplets And prose. They just ****

21

The wind whispered wake up Unto the song birds. The song birds sing wake up To the city The city clashes to it's people Wake Up Miserable the people get up. But at least the trees are happy.

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Dec 15, 2019

Dec 15, 2019 at 4:21 AM UTC

Wake Up

The wind whispered wake up Unto the song birds. The song birds sing wake up To the city The city clashes to it's people Wake Up Miserable the people get up. But at least the trees are happy.

10

I'm not sure which it is correct anymore. If the slight red in the sky means the day has died, Or like a newborn baby begins a new life. The deafening silence of winter, The dead of winter. Contrasted with the first breath of a new day. Witnessed by few, The early risers, The late night workers, The sleep deprived insomniacs Skipping mental stones wishing for sleep.

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Dec 15, 2019

Dec 15, 2019 at 4:16 AM UTC

Dead of Night/Birth of Morn

I'm not sure which it is correct anymore. If the slight red in the sky means the day has died, Or like a newborn baby begins a new life. The deafening silence of winter, The dead of winter. Contrasted with the first breath of a new day. Witnessed by few, The early risers, The late night workers, The sleep deprived insomniacs Skipping mental stones wishing for sleep.

11

Out upon my window pane Willow leaf gusty day, Early dawn yet arrived, Silhouette shadows swoosh-swoop. A storm is coming just you wait, A mournful reason to remember today. Tention snap, crackle, and sizzle, Boiling over results harsh fizzle. ---- Quick run flee fly Hit past mile and mile-faster full dial! No game swoosh swash we lost them a while. Flutter flourish leaves form the figure, Death has come this holiday season.

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Oct 27, 2019

Oct 27, 2019 at 5:32 AM UTC

Halloween Series part 1

Out upon my window pane Willow leaf gusty day, Early dawn yet arrived, Silhouette shadows swoosh-swoop. A storm is coming just you wait, A mournful reason to remember today. Tention snap, crackle, and sizzle, Boiling over results harsh fizzle. ---- Quick run flee fly Hit past mile and mile-faster full dial! No game swoosh swash we lost them a while. Flutter flourish leaves form the figure, Death has come this holiday season.

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