valerieee - Hello Poetry

The empty plastic packet escapes its captor and runs down the street Disappearing with the wind. The horizon comes alive as trees sway with abandon. The lone blackbird is seen hastily making its way back home. That’s when I feel it. The first drop, Singeing my cheek, Languidly making it’s way to my chin. I look upto the sky for the first time. Angry grey clouds veiling the sun stare back at me. They seem desperate for release. But something more powerful seems to be holding them back. What is it? What’s stopping them from unleashing sheets of rain that will slide down from above Hit the concrete and jump into a puddle? “What’s stopping you?” I ask out loud Chin tilted upwards, lips parted, eyes impatiently flitting across the scene above I await a response. For the longest time the clouds don’t reply The tendons in my neck start to ache and I begin to look down That’s when I hear it The faintest sound whispering At first the words seem too quiet, too incoherent But they start to get louder, clearer Those sounds become words that string together in a singular sentence that suffuses my being. “You, are stopping us.”

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Apr 19, 2020

Apr 19, 2020 at 4:43 AM UTC

What's stopping you?

The empty plastic packet escapes its captor and runs down the street Disappearing with the wind. The horizon comes alive as trees sway with abandon. The lone blackbird is seen hastily making its way back home. That’s when I feel it. The first drop, Singeing my cheek, Languidly making it’s way to my chin. I look upto the sky for the first time. Angry grey clouds veiling the sun stare back at me. They seem desperate for release. But something more powerful seems to be holding them back. What is it? What’s stopping them from unleashing sheets of rain that will slide down from above Hit the concrete and jump into a puddle? “What’s stopping you?” I ask out loud Chin tilted upwards, lips parted, eyes impatiently flitting across the scene above I await a response. For the longest time the clouds don’t reply The tendons in my neck start to ache and I begin to look down That’s when I hear it The faintest sound whispering At first the words seem too quiet, too incoherent But they start to get louder, clearer Those sounds become words that string together in a singular sentence that suffuses my being. “You, are stopping us.”

27

Do I feel like a disappointment? Every ******* day! Waking up in the morning Making determined promises. One video becomes two And two become fifty. Before I know it the day breaks And so do my promises.

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Feb 13, 2018

Feb 13, 2018 at 1:08 PM UTC

Dead Lines

Do I feel like a disappointment? Every ******* day! Waking up in the morning Making determined promises. One video becomes two And two become fifty. Before I know it the day breaks And so do my promises.

8

The sensation of thick honey Gliding down your throat, Enveloping your tongue in A heavy, smooth numbness that warms your buds, Dissolving into sweet ecstasy. The smell of rain Soaking into parched soil, Tingling your nostrils, Tickling your senses, Encompassing you with inexplicable calmness. The sound of water Fervently gushing over grainy, crusty rocks, Pacifying the unruly boulders with relentless patience, Accompanied by snippets of birdsong. Holding up your face To the warmth of the sun, On a chilly afternoon Enhanced with the fresh, toasty fragrance of trees, Closing your eyes, Surrendering yourself to bliss. Crushing fresh fruit, With ruthless power, Vibrant juice oozing, Trickling down your hands, Creating streams of colourful rivulets.

0

Dec 15, 2017

Dec 15, 2017 at 2:23 AM UTC

Yellow Hope

The sensation of thick honey Gliding down your throat, Enveloping your tongue in A heavy, smooth numbness that warms your buds, Dissolving into sweet ecstasy. The smell of rain Soaking into parched soil, Tingling your nostrils, Tickling your senses, Encompassing you with inexplicable calmness. The sound of water Fervently gushing over grainy, crusty rocks, Pacifying the unruly boulders with relentless patience, Accompanied by snippets of birdsong. Holding up your face To the warmth of the sun, On a chilly afternoon Enhanced with the fresh, toasty fragrance of trees, Closing your eyes, Surrendering yourself to bliss. Crushing fresh fruit, With ruthless power, Vibrant juice oozing, Trickling down your hands, Creating streams of colourful rivulets.

25