Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
the titles lay about, filed in no order, some a mere notion, some a finished few, most a line or two that ask fervently for birth, commencement, not understanding that finished, need not mean ripened, ready for release, consumption some indeed, awful layabouts in no hurry to complete their appointed rounds, or make their unique composed sounds spoke out loud content to be, yet-to-be but already wanting the entitlements of being just a title entitled, yet even without shape, content to be content-less, poem teenagers, I guess, they want it all all awaiting wondering they understand how humans are born but see no parallel to gestation literate they see infiltration, fertilization, conception, automated, tracked and formulaic the process similar, but the exact moment of birth knows no schedule, some burst, some dormant, aging beyond aged, struggling to believe that those who wait also serve if you were to sit beside this troubled man, whose clouds need poking by, perhaps, your fresh fingers could rocket them into partum warmth fluid bathed, then they would belong to you for you were the trigger, that fired them into existence
0
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 9:48 AM UTC
conceived and conception (works in and unprocessed)
the titles lay about, filed in no order, some a mere notion, some a finished few, most a line or two that ask fervently for birth, commencement, not understanding that finished, need not mean ripened, ready for release, consumption some indeed, awful layabouts in no hurry to complete their appointed rounds, or make their unique composed sounds spoke out loud content to be, yet-to-be but already wanting the entitlements of being just a title entitled, yet even without shape, content to be content-less, poem teenagers, I guess, they want it all all awaiting wondering they understand how humans are born but see no parallel to gestation literate they see infiltration, fertilization, conception, automated, tracked and formulaic the process similar, but the exact moment of birth knows no schedule, some burst, some dormant, aging beyond aged, struggling to believe that those who wait also serve if you were to sit beside this troubled man, whose clouds need poking by, perhaps, your fresh fingers could rocket them into partum warmth fluid bathed, then they would belong to you for you were the trigger, that fired them into existence
third-mate-third
Written by
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 9:48 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem