arthur-klepchukov - Hello Poetry

Once upon a Cold, we painted with our Breath, drawing grand designs with Frost. We thought the Ice would last all season, comfort of our white Chrysalis wrapping Crystal dreams. We antici- pated each coming day like a Snowflake waits for infinite friends to follow it’s unique descent. We didn’t fear starry hours or burned out sky because even that was Bright. And one morning whispers with a drip. drip. delicate palaces rush into consciousness. new chrysalis cries as every brick of what we built becomes a warmer, wetter winter tear. collapsing towers, liquid architectures dancing deep in ear canals, all flowing castles of the fall. Tall empires all return to sea level. farewell, foundations. goodbye, stuck moments. take care, cold friends. hello, invisible breath. now fleeing into pavement rivers, moving as if only motion was alive, sunlit course corrections, shifting midstream to not die. but I weep for our grand designs, no solace in the warm survival of their parts, impermanence courts chaos in what’s left of a pair of frozen hearts.

0

Feb 26, 2014

Feb 26, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC

a melted art

Once upon a Cold, we painted with our Breath, drawing grand designs with Frost. We thought the Ice would last all season, comfort of our white Chrysalis wrapping Crystal dreams. We antici- pated each coming day like a Snowflake waits for infinite friends to follow it’s unique descent. We didn’t fear starry hours or burned out sky because even that was Bright. And one morning whispers with a drip. drip. delicate palaces rush into consciousness. new chrysalis cries as every brick of what we built becomes a warmer, wetter winter tear. collapsing towers, liquid architectures dancing deep in ear canals, all flowing castles of the fall. Tall empires all return to sea level. farewell, foundations. goodbye, stuck moments. take care, cold friends. hello, invisible breath. now fleeing into pavement rivers, moving as if only motion was alive, sunlit course corrections, shifting midstream to not die. but I weep for our grand designs, no solace in the warm survival of their parts, impermanence courts chaos in what’s left of a pair of frozen hearts.

37

Night is like a song that you can’t see so you make up scenery to fill the gaps between fluorescent highways. and forests possible. Figments of figs twist with twigs into nocturnal architectures of confusing beauty. Headlights slice into your eyes and ruin the surprise so you return to sound of foggy rain and smoky tears, trying to fit between the droplets without feeling cold or found. and failing. World exposed as just imagination but your faith blooms, believing makes the secrets breathe. Traffic rolls across eyelids like tracks of fading bright and wet tails across the windshield. and when you peek again you find only rubies staring back like mute, unblinking fireflies and you know you’re driving blind no matter how wide your spies are open.

0

Sep 3, 2012

Sep 3, 2012 at 3:15 AM UTC

Edgemoor

Night is like a song that you can’t see so you make up scenery to fill the gaps between fluorescent highways. and forests possible. Figments of figs twist with twigs into nocturnal architectures of confusing beauty. Headlights slice into your eyes and ruin the surprise so you return to sound of foggy rain and smoky tears, trying to fit between the droplets without feeling cold or found. and failing. World exposed as just imagination but your faith blooms, believing makes the secrets breathe. Traffic rolls across eyelids like tracks of fading bright and wet tails across the windshield. and when you peek again you find only rubies staring back like mute, unblinking fireflies and you know you’re driving blind no matter how wide your spies are open.

20

sound of summer night singing into empty warm dancing, with my sweat

0

Aug 13, 2012

Aug 13, 2012 at 1:45 AM UTC

untitled #haiku

sound of summer night singing into empty warm dancing, with my sweat

3

I return where I was born, not physically Driving a machine that didn’t yet exist through the sleepy streets nocturnal every intersection bursting with memories Past overgrown trees surrounding an elementary school I can’t see Thrusting into radio static songs names scenes all unfamiliar except the change drums as predictable as heartbeats On the sandy road between a home and the soundtrack of the sea where I lingered now, and then Walking by a mother n’ son and waves ending that’s called sea foam, she said waking by a memory being formed On the shore’s blue blend men become boys again toes plucked from the sand and it’s years before the tide returns them Inspired by the shores of Virginia Beach, VA

0

Aug 5, 2012

Aug 5, 2012 at 10:39 PM UTC

Ripping Current

I return where I was born, not physically Driving a machine that didn’t yet exist through the sleepy streets nocturnal every intersection bursting with memories Past overgrown trees surrounding an elementary school I can’t see Thrusting into radio static songs names scenes all unfamiliar except the change drums as predictable as heartbeats On the sandy road between a home and the soundtrack of the sea where I lingered now, and then Walking by a mother n’ son and waves ending that’s called sea foam, she said waking by a memory being formed On the shore’s blue blend men become boys again toes plucked from the sand and it’s years before the tide returns them Inspired by the shores of Virginia Beach, VA

21

The scars you leave on me are just tattoos that no one else can see, they've bled ad nauseam, invisible ink pouring from the pores of lashes and old sores, a tale of muted agony tailed by the ****** of a self-fulfilling prophecy. I knew. The stars you leave me with are just dreams that we abandoned, racing to prove they once existed recalling how it once was like to be kissed by light before bleeding across a generation of galaxies to exile in your soft, cold cheeks as pale. I knew. The jars you leave me in are just the parts you want to be, containers of convenient, misfits for what really happened, they leave nil to breathe: for fusing crimson curiosities, building empires of what if, or asking. Only me in pieces. I new. I'd lose you. *Partially inspired by Sophie Ellis-Bextor's "The Walls Keep Saying Your Name"*

0

Jul 30, 2012

Jul 30, 2012 at 2:21 AM UTC

Expired Eyes

The scars you leave on me are just tattoos that no one else can see, they've bled ad nauseam, invisible ink pouring from the pores of lashes and old sores, a tale of muted agony tailed by the ****** of a self-fulfilling prophecy. I knew. The stars you leave me with are just dreams that we abandoned, racing to prove they once existed recalling how it once was like to be kissed by light before bleeding across a generation of galaxies to exile in your soft, cold cheeks as pale. I knew. The jars you leave me in are just the parts you want to be, containers of convenient, misfits for what really happened, they leave nil to breathe: for fusing crimson curiosities, building empires of what if, or asking. Only me in pieces. I new. I'd lose you. *Partially inspired by Sophie Ellis-Bextor's "The Walls Keep Saying Your Name"*

18

The glass cracks before my eyes and I admire the fractal patterns. Branching limbs reaching for the edges, just to find them. Nails on endless rows of fingertoes too short, too close, too hurt. So hungry for an end they forget to taste. So soon we’ll suffocate. But now will never breathe again. Tomorrow we expire. But now already has. Forget the next. It’ll still come. As long as there’s no tomorrow, we can rise to enjoy the fall. Smile before the reasons flee. Abandon all perspective. Escape causality. Dance with silence before it shatters. (from ArsenalOfWords.com)

0

Jul 21, 2012

Jul 21, 2012 at 8:45 PM UTC

Without Tomorrow

The glass cracks before my eyes and I admire the fractal patterns. Branching limbs reaching for the edges, just to find them. Nails on endless rows of fingertoes too short, too close, too hurt. So hungry for an end they forget to taste. So soon we’ll suffocate. But now will never breathe again. Tomorrow we expire. But now already has. Forget the next. It’ll still come. As long as there’s no tomorrow, we can rise to enjoy the fall. Smile before the reasons flee. Abandon all perspective. Escape causality. Dance with silence before it shatters. (from ArsenalOfWords.com)

16