jordan-ang - Hello Poetry

the Doctor will see you now the nurse announces into the hallway she doesn't shout - only raising her voice a little louder to get my attention. i'm nervous, it's my first serious appointment. as i sit down the stool, She looks into my pupils it's an eye exam, She says lightly brushing across my face skincare is of importance, also sleep more your eye bags aren't a good sign grabs my arm, pinching it lightly muscle density isn't all that bad, her rope of iron is hooked onto Her ears a small disk between Her fingers breathe in, breathe out a stethoscope! it presses against my chest, the palpitations almost minuscule, yet She grabs onto my arm Her ears almost dance at each knock fingers tap to my rhythm Her stethoscope presses harder down my chest it's almost as if my ***** is pushing back against the now warm instrument then it sinks, i swallow it down, down, in! she pushes lightly into my skin why is Her warm hand in my chest? She sinks deeper and deeper in until she grabs the soft fruit of my Eden She's gentle, feeling every jump in my chest this is supposed to happen? Her fingers caress every vein, studying it, tracing it, she notes down the rate in her head no good, She says, getting faster by the minute my sweat pouring down my neck isn't making this any easier, is it? then Her hand slips out i didn't realize she needed no gloves She notes down Her measurements in... a blog? be sure to be back tomorrow i stand up, button up my shirt i am sure to be back tomorrow.

0

Jul 31, 2017

Jul 31, 2017 at 9:38 AM UTC

Doctor

the Doctor will see you now the nurse announces into the hallway she doesn't shout - only raising her voice a little louder to get my attention. i'm nervous, it's my first serious appointment. as i sit down the stool, She looks into my pupils it's an eye exam, She says lightly brushing across my face skincare is of importance, also sleep more your eye bags aren't a good sign grabs my arm, pinching it lightly muscle density isn't all that bad, her rope of iron is hooked onto Her ears a small disk between Her fingers breathe in, breathe out a stethoscope! it presses against my chest, the palpitations almost minuscule, yet She grabs onto my arm Her ears almost dance at each knock fingers tap to my rhythm Her stethoscope presses harder down my chest it's almost as if my ***** is pushing back against the now warm instrument then it sinks, i swallow it down, down, in! she pushes lightly into my skin why is Her warm hand in my chest? She sinks deeper and deeper in until she grabs the soft fruit of my Eden She's gentle, feeling every jump in my chest this is supposed to happen? Her fingers caress every vein, studying it, tracing it, she notes down the rate in her head no good, She says, getting faster by the minute my sweat pouring down my neck isn't making this any easier, is it? then Her hand slips out i didn't realize she needed no gloves She notes down Her measurements in... a blog? be sure to be back tomorrow i stand up, button up my shirt i am sure to be back tomorrow.

42

astrophysicists have a thing with black holes that mass, their chalked out event horizons. i always thought i could be an astrophysicist i could peer through my telescope equations would litter my chalkboard i would map the celestial bodies and black holes. i think i am an astrophysicist. every day i peer through my telescope lenses millimeters thick i sit anywhere equations litter my head, my parchment the black holes are strangely visible with my telescope, the pair of them they beckon at me i can feel the gravitational pull no, you're not fat never but your pull tugs at me, my strings heartstrings so does my vision that naturally gravitates towards them i think i will publish my findings soon. i think i am an astrophysicist.

0

Jul 28, 2017

Jul 28, 2017 at 11:37 AM UTC

black holes

astrophysicists have a thing with black holes that mass, their chalked out event horizons. i always thought i could be an astrophysicist i could peer through my telescope equations would litter my chalkboard i would map the celestial bodies and black holes. i think i am an astrophysicist. every day i peer through my telescope lenses millimeters thick i sit anywhere equations litter my head, my parchment the black holes are strangely visible with my telescope, the pair of them they beckon at me i can feel the gravitational pull no, you're not fat never but your pull tugs at me, my strings heartstrings so does my vision that naturally gravitates towards them i think i will publish my findings soon. i think i am an astrophysicist.

23

for i seek not the blessings of the stars nor the endowment from the lords above. i only ask that i have my fortunes be spun by my name. amen.

0

Jul 9, 2017

Jul 9, 2017 at 5:57 AM UTC

Fortuna

for i seek not the blessings of the stars nor the endowment from the lords above. i only ask that i have my fortunes be spun by my name. amen.

7

One red leather seat Eighty-seven red leather seats Golden sheen of the mace Black over their shoulders White cloth banded over sight Upright hand of upright spirit A golden scale in one The glimmering blade in another Words carved on the starch Under the flag, written These that bond us Restrict us, Set us, Show us Yet when the path astray is led The cries of The rightful the just Go mum and mute and silent and hushed The red leather seats In present turn into thrones of Knives and fire As Draco watches on, envious In books, in schools We preach, often Events we fear we repeat Words we fear we echo But unbeknownst we do Betwixt our hurried steps and False grips on reality We again allow its passage First they came for And I did not speak out Because I was not And there was no one left to speak for

0

Aug 19, 2016

Aug 19, 2016 at 5:20 AM UTC

Slander

One red leather seat Eighty-seven red leather seats Golden sheen of the mace Black over their shoulders White cloth banded over sight Upright hand of upright spirit A golden scale in one The glimmering blade in another Words carved on the starch Under the flag, written These that bond us Restrict us, Set us, Show us Yet when the path astray is led The cries of The rightful the just Go mum and mute and silent and hushed The red leather seats In present turn into thrones of Knives and fire As Draco watches on, envious In books, in schools We preach, often Events we fear we repeat Words we fear we echo But unbeknownst we do Betwixt our hurried steps and False grips on reality We again allow its passage First they came for And I did not speak out Because I was not And there was no one left to speak for

32

Of fluttering strings Blaring pipes on high Striking of drums Octaves played to certify Footsteps on grey gravel Mud soaked in forest terrain Flags that flew unfurled And braved the relentless rain Sights and sounds that Triggering notions of nostalgia Reliving the anecdotes Of our school-days euphoria One hundred score thirteen Shorts of our khaki hue First stride in the institution Grass still wet with morning dew In your classrooms Amongst all your courses I learnt Versailles, prose Our tongues and gravitational forces Now one hundred score sixteen An occasion for commemoration Your anniversary, most celebratory Jubilant emotions, nil cessation Nil Sine Labore A phrase we all reaffirm For our uniting brotherhood That we can confirm Once again we all relived The Spirit, burning without doubt Not reignited, no For it was never blown out

0

Aug 3, 2016

Aug 3, 2016 at 9:54 AM UTC

Viva

Of fluttering strings Blaring pipes on high Striking of drums Octaves played to certify Footsteps on grey gravel Mud soaked in forest terrain Flags that flew unfurled And braved the relentless rain Sights and sounds that Triggering notions of nostalgia Reliving the anecdotes Of our school-days euphoria One hundred score thirteen Shorts of our khaki hue First stride in the institution Grass still wet with morning dew In your classrooms Amongst all your courses I learnt Versailles, prose Our tongues and gravitational forces Now one hundred score sixteen An occasion for commemoration Your anniversary, most celebratory Jubilant emotions, nil cessation Nil Sine Labore A phrase we all reaffirm For our uniting brotherhood That we can confirm Once again we all relived The Spirit, burning without doubt Not reignited, no For it was never blown out

32

Eight, Three, Zero Lighted flares, all directions streaming Atmosphere exultant, saw not an opportunity for askewness Waved banners, displayer of the iconic Blue, White, Red For the breeze ruffled these shades Gallantly proclaiming, alas, the Republic Dassault Rafale, engines roaring ahead Nine, Zero, Zero A precipitous shift in mood The cheers were different, in fact Almost as if fading White, White, White The vehicle shifts its gear The man’s foot unforgivingly pressed on acceleration Ploughing through, snowplow through ice One, One, Two They dial, no longer are Their shouts for some celebratory cause Tucked under the rubber, eternal slumber Four, Score, Four Young and free, they were not exempt Fatimah, Jean, Brodie, Christianne A lone rider, forlorn in cessation Fourteen, Seven, Sixteen A new motivation for commemoration Juncture of remembrance For the bravest hearts Liberté, égalité, fraternité Kept in ******* a formidable bulwark War wages forth, yet for the Hexagon We weep.

0

Aug 3, 2016

Aug 3, 2016 at 9:44 AM UTC

Pour nous pleurons

Eight, Three, Zero Lighted flares, all directions streaming Atmosphere exultant, saw not an opportunity for askewness Waved banners, displayer of the iconic Blue, White, Red For the breeze ruffled these shades Gallantly proclaiming, alas, the Republic Dassault Rafale, engines roaring ahead Nine, Zero, Zero A precipitous shift in mood The cheers were different, in fact Almost as if fading White, White, White The vehicle shifts its gear The man’s foot unforgivingly pressed on acceleration Ploughing through, snowplow through ice One, One, Two They dial, no longer are Their shouts for some celebratory cause Tucked under the rubber, eternal slumber Four, Score, Four Young and free, they were not exempt Fatimah, Jean, Brodie, Christianne A lone rider, forlorn in cessation Fourteen, Seven, Sixteen A new motivation for commemoration Juncture of remembrance For the bravest hearts Liberté, égalité, fraternité Kept in ******* a formidable bulwark War wages forth, yet for the Hexagon We weep.

32