christyler - Hello Poetry

arranging the tiles and sorting production chits must happen to start I will not trade ore trades should benefit us both I’m building a city

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Jul 15, 2025

Jul 15, 2025 at 1:48 PM UTC

christyler

Catan Haiku

arranging the tiles and sorting production chits must happen to start I will not trade ore trades should benefit us both I’m building a city

6

When we first met, I savored each word from your lips. I counted our moments together, our moments apart, Each one filled with wonder. I feared that it could not last, that it was fleeting, ephemeral. We talked for hours, and I feel further into your siren spell. I longed to see you, hold you, hear you I could scarcely breathe without you in my thoughts, without you in my breath. Now, it is no longer so. Our moments together are still full of wonder You are as transcendent and resplendent as in our youth You are no less, nor I (I hope) But I no longer fear that what we have will melt in moments, like snowflakes on your cheeks, on my hands. And so I have changed. Before, I was but a wildebeest, coming down to the waters, sipping in small measures. Each sip was sweet, new, delightful, wonderful. Now, I bathe in the waters, wash in the waters, eat and drink in the waters. I live in the waters. I am buoyed by its strength, and guided by its current. I no longer recall the nomadic life, the thirst, and the quenching of it. I have forgotten what it is to be dry, to bear my full weight. I am no longer a creature of the grass, who comes to the waters for rejoicing, for pleasure, for healing. I am a hippo, surrounded by comfort, beauty, buoyancy Surrounded by life and love. I oft forget the beauty and majesty of where I once visited, of where I now live,

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Jul 8, 2025

Jul 8, 2025 at 5:51 PM UTC

christyler

For Melissa, October 2014

When we first met, I savored each word from your lips. I counted our moments together, our moments apart, Each one filled with wonder. I feared that it could not last, that it was fleeting, ephemeral. We talked for hours, and I feel further into your siren spell. I longed to see you, hold you, hear you I could scarcely breathe without you in my thoughts, without you in my breath. Now, it is no longer so. Our moments together are still full of wonder You are as transcendent and resplendent as in our youth You are no less, nor I (I hope) But I no longer fear that what we have will melt in moments, like snowflakes on your cheeks, on my hands. And so I have changed. Before, I was but a wildebeest, coming down to the waters, sipping in small measures. Each sip was sweet, new, delightful, wonderful. Now, I bathe in the waters, wash in the waters, eat and drink in the waters. I live in the waters. I am buoyed by its strength, and guided by its current. I no longer recall the nomadic life, the thirst, and the quenching of it. I have forgotten what it is to be dry, to bear my full weight. I am no longer a creature of the grass, who comes to the waters for rejoicing, for pleasure, for healing. I am a hippo, surrounded by comfort, beauty, buoyancy Surrounded by life and love. I oft forget the beauty and majesty of where I once visited, of where I now live,

31

Write a limerick with antechamber Came the dare from a girl I adore It is sloppy at best And a quite sober jest But at least it can't be any lamer

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Jul 7, 2025

Jul 7, 2025 at 10:38 AM UTC

christyler

A Limerick with Antechamber

Write a limerick with antechamber Came the dare from a girl I adore It is sloppy at best And a quite sober jest But at least it can't be any lamer

5

I strolled the coast Sun soaked my shoulders Warmth spread up through my feet from the sun baked sand, that I felt, more than heard, as a subtle susurration of sand that shifted under my soles surged between my toes A wave wandered out of the ocean kissed my feet with briny tears caressed and stole the silt from beneath my soles subtly shifted my standing sailed gently back to sea My tensions eased with its withdrawal A gentle bracing breeze arose condensed to prickles on my arms Awoke hairs to stand alert Pungent ocean air and spray stung yet soothed my parched lips shocked my nose with that smell of calm after a storm I was a part of this entire panoply I was part of this expanse I was part of this I was part of now I glanced back toward where I must return A titanic wave crashed against my back blasted me to the sand buffeted me cruelly smote away my breath ground grit into my palms forced flashbacks that sand is coarse and abrasive as well as tranquil and warm I struggled and was beaten down and beaten down Eventually achingly haltingly I pulled up and gasped for air sputtered crude and briny water brushed the sand from my face saw the sanguine cuts and scrapes then heard their clamorous lament that crested as wave upon wave buried me and mockingly failed to wash away any part of my hurt Blood or perhaps brine wept down my cheeks and I had already been bleeding from old wounds and cuts and bruises unhealed and untended and those barely healed ripped asunder These shouts of agony drowned out any new tenderness Will I always be bleeding? Will I ever heal? Will I ever feel safe again? Will I ever even get all the sand from my hair? At any rate, I must shortly keep walking on.

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Jul 7, 2025

Jul 7, 2025 at 10:36 AM UTC

christyler

Oceanic Grief

I strolled the coast Sun soaked my shoulders Warmth spread up through my feet from the sun baked sand, that I felt, more than heard, as a subtle susurration of sand that shifted under my soles surged between my toes A wave wandered out of the ocean kissed my feet with briny tears caressed and stole the silt from beneath my soles subtly shifted my standing sailed gently back to sea My tensions eased with its withdrawal A gentle bracing breeze arose condensed to prickles on my arms Awoke hairs to stand alert Pungent ocean air and spray stung yet soothed my parched lips shocked my nose with that smell of calm after a storm I was a part of this entire panoply I was part of this expanse I was part of this I was part of now I glanced back toward where I must return A titanic wave crashed against my back blasted me to the sand buffeted me cruelly smote away my breath ground grit into my palms forced flashbacks that sand is coarse and abrasive as well as tranquil and warm I struggled and was beaten down and beaten down Eventually achingly haltingly I pulled up and gasped for air sputtered crude and briny water brushed the sand from my face saw the sanguine cuts and scrapes then heard their clamorous lament that crested as wave upon wave buried me and mockingly failed to wash away any part of my hurt Blood or perhaps brine wept down my cheeks and I had already been bleeding from old wounds and cuts and bruises unhealed and untended and those barely healed ripped asunder These shouts of agony drowned out any new tenderness Will I always be bleeding? Will I ever heal? Will I ever feel safe again? Will I ever even get all the sand from my hair? At any rate, I must shortly keep walking on.

57

To be as still as flowers in a vase – Ones captured on a canvas bare and white, Sprung forth by a Renoir’s or O'keefe's delight, Delighting me when I see face to face The painted hues and light imagined first In frenzy, and slowly then crafted, Created through practice, then mastered Through weeks and years, repeated and rehearsed – Oft comes, it’s said, from quiet in a life. My serene certainty comes while racing Through the woods of life, with stumbled pacing, Crying as branches lash across one eye. My stillness springs forth, with largesse, With joy and sorrow, from distress.

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Jul 6, 2025

Jul 6, 2025 at 11:39 PM UTC

christyler

Stillness in Still Life

To be as still as flowers in a vase – Ones captured on a canvas bare and white, Sprung forth by a Renoir’s or O'keefe's delight, Delighting me when I see face to face The painted hues and light imagined first In frenzy, and slowly then crafted, Created through practice, then mastered Through weeks and years, repeated and rehearsed – Oft comes, it’s said, from quiet in a life. My serene certainty comes while racing Through the woods of life, with stumbled pacing, Crying as branches lash across one eye. My stillness springs forth, with largesse, With joy and sorrow, from distress.

14