lirau - Hello Poetry

Ripples on dark and cold stone shores bring forward memory Near the lake, I seek out the path to dark waters Asleep not long ago, time has lost its tight hold Escape is disgrace.

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Jan 8, 2024

Jan 8, 2024 at 12:59 PM UTC

Untitled, end of 2023

Ripples on dark and cold stone shores bring forward memory Near the lake, I seek out the path to dark waters Asleep not long ago, time has lost its tight hold Escape is disgrace.

4

Colourful leaps! glistening, burning flesh shimmering across the walls, it could have grown a glass eye here. Smooth and sinuous under my nail, from my hands scales rain down the brilliance now quenched. I pay no respects slide the blade across and separate.

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Jul 28, 2020

Jul 28, 2020 at 1:57 AM UTC

Skinning a salmon

Colourful leaps! glistening, burning flesh shimmering across the walls, it could have grown a glass eye here. Smooth and sinuous under my nail, from my hands scales rain down the brilliance now quenched. I pay no respects slide the blade across and separate.

10

a crunchy-looking evergreen glitters beyond the buttery sun melting onto dense white halls, an angel’s resting place my breath melds with the clouds together we drift silently our shadows over the hills punctuated by the early sunset

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Nov 20, 2019

Nov 20, 2019 at 2:08 AM UTC

a winter skyscape, with trees

a crunchy-looking evergreen glitters beyond the buttery sun melting onto dense white halls, an angel’s resting place my breath melds with the clouds together we drift silently our shadows over the hills punctuated by the early sunset

8

How do we know goodbyes are impermanent? Is it because inherently Things never last Such as the self? I gave a bit of my body to everyone Handed the pieces away one by one like pills so I don't have to say goodbye anymore Well now, I have returned and I want those pills back

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Aug 12, 2019

Aug 12, 2019 at 1:09 AM UTC

The return

How do we know goodbyes are impermanent? Is it because inherently Things never last Such as the self? I gave a bit of my body to everyone Handed the pieces away one by one like pills so I don't have to say goodbye anymore Well now, I have returned and I want those pills back

12

Icons on a virtual screen Tinny music for your ears A row of keys Linear time and not so linear words versus A quill and ink Bright dangerous oil lamp Parchment paper Musty like my grandmother, Cradling the words in your mouth

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Jul 11, 2018

Jul 11, 2018 at 2:57 AM UTC

Medium

Icons on a virtual screen Tinny music for your ears A row of keys Linear time and not so linear words versus A quill and ink Bright dangerous oil lamp Parchment paper Musty like my grandmother, Cradling the words in your mouth

11

gasping, panting, the wind penetrating my pores. eyes watering I dash through the morning sun a black blur, free and wild as a sunspot at ten past ten peeking past my curtains I see a dim blanket covering the sky

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Jul 10, 2018

Jul 10, 2018 at 3:39 PM UTC

morning run

gasping, panting, the wind penetrating my pores. eyes watering I dash through the morning sun a black blur, free and wild as a sunspot at ten past ten peeking past my curtains I see a dim blanket covering the sky

9

there is an old man standing at the pole on the train he is cackling to himself and tossing feet around it's at times like this that i wish i were invisible playing dead to the world living mountain hillsides growing gingko and pine my stones rubbed smooth by the murky water translucent with memories.

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Jan 18, 2018

Jan 18, 2018 at 11:40 PM UTC

retreat

there is an old man standing at the pole on the train he is cackling to himself and tossing feet around it's at times like this that i wish i were invisible playing dead to the world living mountain hillsides growing gingko and pine my stones rubbed smooth by the murky water translucent with memories.

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lying on the ground a cup of untouched mint tea oxidizing from ochre to black I put on a coat stretch out on the balcony, and wait for the mist

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Dec 5, 2017

Dec 5, 2017 at 8:29 PM UTC

a day of soggy tea leaves

lying on the ground a cup of untouched mint tea oxidizing from ochre to black I put on a coat stretch out on the balcony, and wait for the mist

6

as Duncan from The Edible Woman once said: "At last I know what I really want to be. An amoeba." as the poet frantically writes, she exclaims, "And I, in turn, know what I want to be. A microblogger."

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Oct 20, 2017

Oct 20, 2017 at 11:31 PM UTC

a tribute to lost identity

as Duncan from The Edible Woman once said: "At last I know what I really want to be. An amoeba." as the poet frantically writes, she exclaims, "And I, in turn, know what I want to be. A microblogger."

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Gone is the wind Empty forests loom Higher than before A hush settles over a hundred houses

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May 20, 2017

May 20, 2017 at 9:49 PM UTC

Night

Gone is the wind Empty forests loom Higher than before A hush settles over a hundred houses

5