doctorshay - Hello Poetry

Hollering wind noises agitated the motherless womb. Clouds casted imprecations within a roofless tomb. One witness wallowed about Traced her fingertips along the edges of ivory-laden walls Unwilling to let her out. A veteran seeking refuge A sheep escaping slaughter A witness shielding her eyes Only one will escape.

0

Jun 17, 2013

Jun 17, 2013 at 2:10 PM UTC

Winner takes all

Hollering wind noises agitated the motherless womb. Clouds casted imprecations within a roofless tomb. One witness wallowed about Traced her fingertips along the edges of ivory-laden walls Unwilling to let her out. A veteran seeking refuge A sheep escaping slaughter A witness shielding her eyes Only one will escape.

12

an ever-blazing, startled sun coupled with raging rain complemented my indifferent mood. watching the droplets descend from the sky one, two, three, one, four, five, six, one the wet particles avoided my ugly skin. liquid tears penetrated my pores, mocking the rain. my eye sockets can hardly compare to the clouds, though both are wrinkled, deceitful, and strong. one, two, three, one, four, five, six, one caustically falling, one thousand accumulated thus far Regretting then forgetting, pressing it away. Repressing the depressing Images, overplayed.

0

Jun 17, 2013

Jun 17, 2013 at 2:07 PM UTC

overplayed

an ever-blazing, startled sun coupled with raging rain complemented my indifferent mood. watching the droplets descend from the sky one, two, three, one, four, five, six, one the wet particles avoided my ugly skin. liquid tears penetrated my pores, mocking the rain. my eye sockets can hardly compare to the clouds, though both are wrinkled, deceitful, and strong. one, two, three, one, four, five, six, one caustically falling, one thousand accumulated thus far Regretting then forgetting, pressing it away. Repressing the depressing Images, overplayed.

18

there is no button to press and hold down no slab of clay to abuse and mold brown the sky turned ash grey frown your scarlet lips did not object nor obey hown your fickle fingers crawling in my ears hear chasing after a sheetless bed of tears

0

Jun 17, 2013

Jun 17, 2013 at 2:03 PM UTC

down

there is no button to press and hold down no slab of clay to abuse and mold brown the sky turned ash grey frown your scarlet lips did not object nor obey hown your fickle fingers crawling in my ears hear chasing after a sheetless bed of tears

12

Rolling forward The only piece of matter that matters is reduced to a 9-pound round thing Thing, think, for, ward, forehead, bed For once, not wanting it to be you instead Laughter, echos, people having fun Unbelieving the harsh realities of the world because The only piece of matter that matters is reduced to a 9-pound round thing Thing, fling, summer, winter, harsh, bitter Sweet, your lips, oh how they flirted Revealed your heart's emotions through a crafted semi-circle, inverted Rounded The only piece of matter that matters is reduced to a 9-pound round thing

0

Dec 26, 2010

Dec 26, 2010 at 11:38 AM UTC

A Struggle Against Stubborn Pins

Rolling forward The only piece of matter that matters is reduced to a 9-pound round thing Thing, think, for, ward, forehead, bed For once, not wanting it to be you instead Laughter, echos, people having fun Unbelieving the harsh realities of the world because The only piece of matter that matters is reduced to a 9-pound round thing Thing, fling, summer, winter, harsh, bitter Sweet, your lips, oh how they flirted Revealed your heart's emotions through a crafted semi-circle, inverted Rounded The only piece of matter that matters is reduced to a 9-pound round thing

12

Good-byes bid one by one, like a row of candles Glowing, but flickering with the most temporary relief. The disbelief, a pathetic excuse to suffice as justification Prove me wrong, but offer no reason or explanation, Only lies. Harbingers are callow cries Marked by the change of season Or waning of the moon, Take your pick, Pick the scabs That flake away, Like the broken air vents scratching your room Noiselessly. Blame the airwaves for failure, Fail to deliver an honest example, a sample Of blood you donated to a lost cause, A ship without a sailor Headed for a vacuum in the wrathful waters, bubbling blue. Your blue Crystalline eyes that spoke emotionlessly, Evoking commitment devotionlessly. My intention, apparent and there Your attention limited to a direct, directionless stare. A washed out jacket smelled of sweet dry sands Concealed your regret, a heart held weak with grainy hands, Like the hands of a clock Or an hour glass, releasing a last tock Before the neglected and battered boat Caught glimpse of the welcoming flock Of seagulls Lounging lazily upon a desolate dock, Waiting for the incoming tide Relying on your "sick and pale" Grieving orbital That refuses to abide By the laws of science, set So stubbornly, Setting itself for denial, Demands that will never again be met, A decision thought out without precision, Finality embodied through Hands waving away. Those cleansing waves indicating disarray... Or perhaps welcoming the sun's promising rays.

0

Dec 26, 2010

Dec 26, 2010 at 11:33 AM UTC

Luna(tic)

Good-byes bid one by one, like a row of candles Glowing, but flickering with the most temporary relief. The disbelief, a pathetic excuse to suffice as justification Prove me wrong, but offer no reason or explanation, Only lies. Harbingers are callow cries Marked by the change of season Or waning of the moon, Take your pick, Pick the scabs That flake away, Like the broken air vents scratching your room Noiselessly. Blame the airwaves for failure, Fail to deliver an honest example, a sample Of blood you donated to a lost cause, A ship without a sailor Headed for a vacuum in the wrathful waters, bubbling blue. Your blue Crystalline eyes that spoke emotionlessly, Evoking commitment devotionlessly. My intention, apparent and there Your attention limited to a direct, directionless stare. A washed out jacket smelled of sweet dry sands Concealed your regret, a heart held weak with grainy hands, Like the hands of a clock Or an hour glass, releasing a last tock Before the neglected and battered boat Caught glimpse of the welcoming flock Of seagulls Lounging lazily upon a desolate dock, Waiting for the incoming tide Relying on your "sick and pale" Grieving orbital That refuses to abide By the laws of science, set So stubbornly, Setting itself for denial, Demands that will never again be met, A decision thought out without precision, Finality embodied through Hands waving away. Those cleansing waves indicating disarray... Or perhaps welcoming the sun's promising rays.

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