Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Will my body forgive me For the market I hold in her temple Sins for a denarius A farthing for a night under her tapestries When you could be watching stars Stars shine the same whether you clutch a ticket or a match They love to be the last thing burning out at night I am not close to their light Burning seems of little consequence to me Look upon the stars Find them more patient than I in stamina I more soluble in my regrets The sun begins pulling cloud tears back from the earth Agels whisper the innocence of the world into the atmosphere The stratosphere knows nothing of our regrets She does not see fingers crossed behind our backs Knowing nothing of pennies given for promises Promises given for free Plastic coins for a lover Nothing in my pockets for me Hold your secrets under my skin Knowing you let the night carry you away You can take it back These are the dreams in the desert In the sun, under the mountains Those who journey on foot Knowing that knocking on doors means being turned away My desire to cling to you Is the cold that pushes you away You are the oranges in the snow A cold citrus kiss I know your real name With no courage to spit it out These hands are clenched No room for promises here Between your fingers and skin You grip regret so tight One truth that will not abandon you Biting not the hand that feeds Go hungry When a morsel is a memory Dreams a feast to you Regret devours all but bones Anger has chosen your words for today She is your strong horse You will not bare the weight of the reins A bit does not taste much of metal When there is blood on your hands Your prayer today You have hope tomorrow, to hope for tomorrow Time is a feather, fool You give her flight for the price of falling These coins in my pockets are for you To make my steps lighter A copper face is nothing When you have seen the writing on the walls *e pluribus unum they call me legion* How many hands will you give me How many dealt To count my sins on my fingers misertus est enim stulti stultus est misericordia sicut vilis ut eius precibus When the walls speak will you listen
0
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 4:00 PM UTC
Temple (pt 2)
Will my body forgive me For the market I hold in her temple Sins for a denarius A farthing for a night under her tapestries When you could be watching stars Stars shine the same whether you clutch a ticket or a match They love to be the last thing burning out at night I am not close to their light Burning seems of little consequence to me Look upon the stars Find them more patient than I in stamina I more soluble in my regrets The sun begins pulling cloud tears back from the earth Agels whisper the innocence of the world into the atmosphere The stratosphere knows nothing of our regrets She does not see fingers crossed behind our backs Knowing nothing of pennies given for promises Promises given for free Plastic coins for a lover Nothing in my pockets for me Hold your secrets under my skin Knowing you let the night carry you away You can take it back These are the dreams in the desert In the sun, under the mountains Those who journey on foot Knowing that knocking on doors means being turned away My desire to cling to you Is the cold that pushes you away You are the oranges in the snow A cold citrus kiss I know your real name With no courage to spit it out These hands are clenched No room for promises here Between your fingers and skin You grip regret so tight One truth that will not abandon you Biting not the hand that feeds Go hungry When a morsel is a memory Dreams a feast to you Regret devours all but bones Anger has chosen your words for today She is your strong horse You will not bare the weight of the reins A bit does not taste much of metal When there is blood on your hands Your prayer today You have hope tomorrow, to hope for tomorrow Time is a feather, fool You give her flight for the price of falling These coins in my pockets are for you To make my steps lighter A copper face is nothing When you have seen the writing on the walls *e pluribus unum they call me legion* How many hands will you give me How many dealt To count my sins on my fingers misertus est enim stulti stultus est misericordia sicut vilis ut eius precibus When the walls speak will you listen
Translation for italicized sections 1. Out of one, many. 2. They call me legion for we are many. Demon cast out of a man speaking to Jesus. (Mark 5:9) 3. Pity is for fools. 4. A fool's mercy is as cheap as his prayers.
wordsinthewind
Written by
22/F/American
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 4:00 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem