csengen - Hello Poetry

She sits in the sweltering sun, Bone of plenty, Her baroque design illustrated Lashings of lavish lilies. Their leather lips folded, Collapsed and retreated. Likened to the greenery, They brimmed with envy, And stroked each stone wall. Bone dry, She drank from the dew, A bull’s horn, golden halo, glass canopy.

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Jul 20, 2020

Jul 20, 2020 at 7:42 PM UTC

Glass canopy

She sits in the sweltering sun, Bone of plenty, Her baroque design illustrated Lashings of lavish lilies. Their leather lips folded, Collapsed and retreated. Likened to the greenery, They brimmed with envy, And stroked each stone wall. Bone dry, She drank from the dew, A bull’s horn, golden halo, glass canopy.

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When the little blades pierce the air, Or when the lush green is rolled out like a mossy carpet, Rich and alive, It licks the rim of a glass house And fizzes from a hand in celebration, Pity the pretty bubbles die. It runs from you like a little beast, But grows into a pale yellow monster, It exists and it jeers, It retreats and it abandones. But you hope it returns, And you hope that it's evergreen.

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Dec 24, 2018

Dec 24, 2018 at 5:22 PM UTC

Green is a Neutral Colour

When the little blades pierce the air, Or when the lush green is rolled out like a mossy carpet, Rich and alive, It licks the rim of a glass house And fizzes from a hand in celebration, Pity the pretty bubbles die. It runs from you like a little beast, But grows into a pale yellow monster, It exists and it jeers, It retreats and it abandones. But you hope it returns, And you hope that it's evergreen.

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It feels like walking under a night sky, Only to look up and see grey, Like the stars had sunk to the bottom of the ocean. I feel swallowed up, And as though I still house something, Yet my body's but a hollow vessel. With no lighthouse, No storm to sweep me away, I am merely a boat on a vast sea of tranquillity. Though sometimes, Silence is the most deafening noise of all.

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Sep 25, 2018

Sep 25, 2018 at 7:28 PM UTC

What does it feel like?

It feels like walking under a night sky, Only to look up and see grey, Like the stars had sunk to the bottom of the ocean. I feel swallowed up, And as though I still house something, Yet my body's but a hollow vessel. With no lighthouse, No storm to sweep me away, I am merely a boat on a vast sea of tranquillity. Though sometimes, Silence is the most deafening noise of all.

11

A dozen white maidens in ivory silks Grip the rich tissue in your tempered skull. I hide from them in my own clinical whiteness, A kind of peace in prayer, For what once was a promise of decadence and excitement, Is now a character of lavish leather lilies. I'm sorry that I hurt you so With my actions, words, or mind. I am but a child Stood in grass-stained whites.

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Sep 3, 2018

Sep 3, 2018 at 6:04 PM UTC

White

A dozen white maidens in ivory silks Grip the rich tissue in your tempered skull. I hide from them in my own clinical whiteness, A kind of peace in prayer, For what once was a promise of decadence and excitement, Is now a character of lavish leather lilies. I'm sorry that I hurt you so With my actions, words, or mind. I am but a child Stood in grass-stained whites.

10

A dozen whitened lilies, Choked in renaissance jewels, Each cut gripping the stalks and tugging the leather lips. They stain like daffodils. And though grand, Their speckled folds ooze death itself, Like a beggar with heightened pride. The string of scarlet tenses and the stalks smothered, each head refused nourishment, They wither.

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Sep 3, 2018

Sep 3, 2018 at 5:50 PM UTC

Daffodil

A dozen whitened lilies, Choked in renaissance jewels, Each cut gripping the stalks and tugging the leather lips. They stain like daffodils. And though grand, Their speckled folds ooze death itself, Like a beggar with heightened pride. The string of scarlet tenses and the stalks smothered, each head refused nourishment, They wither.

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