#bloodlines - Hello Poetry

For bloodlines are linked only by blood My emotions come out in a drowning flood We only share a last name For all these years I’ve fallen fool to your game No remorse to the ones with the worse Only greed and fame, it’ll always be the same We are linked not by love anymore The stress laid down is like an aching sore I’ll no longer be trapped in your thickening mud For bloodlines are linked only by blood

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Sep 23, 2024

Sep 23, 2024 at 9:49 PM UTC

EmeryF

Bloodlines

For bloodlines are linked only by blood My emotions come out in a drowning flood We only share a last name For all these years I’ve fallen fool to your game No remorse to the ones with the worse Only greed and fame, it’ll always be the same We are linked not by love anymore The stress laid down is like an aching sore I’ll no longer be trapped in your thickening mud For bloodlines are linked only by blood

10

....................Like flowing lava/Hot with sweat Lithe muscle/Sturdy bone/The horses course/The hillsides as if by hell beset/magnificent as the sea/ As powerful as a tide As if a fire runs in Aching veins/God tests Ancient bloodlines in them And gives them reins/But All in all their hearts ring A leather bell on ours A Vulcan strength we see/ And recognize fully in you And me/splendid equine Curves as the tails arch/and Manes stream/on arid dunes.... Arabian. SoulSurvivor Catherine Jarvis 12/6/2020

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Dec 6, 2020

Dec 6, 2020 at 10:29 PM UTC

SoulSurvivor

The Horses

....................Like flowing lava/Hot with sweat Lithe muscle/Sturdy bone/The horses course/The hillsides as if by hell beset/magnificent as the sea/ As powerful as a tide As if a fire runs in Aching veins/God tests Ancient bloodlines in them And gives them reins/But All in all their hearts ring A leather bell on ours A Vulcan strength we see/ And recognize fully in you And me/splendid equine Curves as the tails arch/and Manes stream/on arid dunes.... Arabian. SoulSurvivor Catherine Jarvis 12/6/2020

21

You often spoke of frameworks as guiding principles at all phases of life. You spoke of structures, you spoke of lines.. Lines that when crossed with mischief, called for admonishment. Lines you drew on our exercise books to ensure homework was complete. Lines you made so clear guarding your babies from outside harm. Lines that parallel the lives of all mothers. Today as I look at you, I see those lines etched deep in tireless perseverance; a reminder of your experiences. Those lines as you age ever so gracefully, are exactly what makes you all the more so beautiful.

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May 30, 2020

May 30, 2020 at 1:55 PM UTC

heartz

I Love You Ma

You often spoke of frameworks as guiding principles at all phases of life. You spoke of structures, you spoke of lines.. Lines that when crossed with mischief, called for admonishment. Lines you drew on our exercise books to ensure homework was complete. Lines you made so clear guarding your babies from outside harm. Lines that parallel the lives of all mothers. Today as I look at you, I see those lines etched deep in tireless perseverance; a reminder of your experiences. Those lines as you age ever so gracefully, are exactly what makes you all the more so beautiful.

8

a river flows in both of us with the same thrum of an erratic heartbeat, steady hands that secretly shake and heavy eyelids that feel like weights. we grew up on the shelf-- decorum for the dollhouse of broken dreams. born and raised we rise and fall like balloons, but we don't always get to reach the stars. we kneel, not in submission, or for prayer, but to remember where we come from and where we'll go back to. we crack and twist like dead trees leaning from the weight. diamonds, hiding, in wait. we are perennials-- we blossom and die; forgetting we come alive again. but when the sun has set and we lose our breath we shiver amongst the silence, only landmarks not found yet

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Oct 30, 2018

Oct 30, 2018 at 7:30 PM UTC

heather-ann

bloodlines

a river flows in both of us with the same thrum of an erratic heartbeat, steady hands that secretly shake and heavy eyelids that feel like weights. we grew up on the shelf-- decorum for the dollhouse of broken dreams. born and raised we rise and fall like balloons, but we don't always get to reach the stars. we kneel, not in submission, or for prayer, but to remember where we come from and where we'll go back to. we crack and twist like dead trees leaning from the weight. diamonds, hiding, in wait. we are perennials-- we blossom and die; forgetting we come alive again. but when the sun has set and we lose our breath we shiver amongst the silence, only landmarks not found yet

26

i hail from heat, heat in the heart and in the home, in the head and in the heel of the sword that swings for both justice and action. i inherit this love, this life and these virtues like heirlooms. i inherit this boldness from you i inherit the air of a highborn lady, while not without the humility of a low born daughter from you i inherit gentle hands of craft into fists of rage and fire that melt away sorrows from you i rise and fall, for from you i breathe. unspoken it was passed down, and yet it stirs and whispers to me in my bones of ancient thought and force, passed down from kin to kin, from one blood to another of temperance and will that flow like tradition— a book written on age-old sandstone pressed eons below the earth, text mapped in bloodlines over a body, not alone. never fading. you bid me to rise from dust and ashes into the woman of your forging, and so with a kiss between my brow for farewell and fortune i may live with your light tucked into my heart, because my inheritance lives within me.

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Jul 19, 2018

Jul 19, 2018 at 11:51 AM UTC

anarchist

bloodlines

i hail from heat, heat in the heart and in the home, in the head and in the heel of the sword that swings for both justice and action. i inherit this love, this life and these virtues like heirlooms. i inherit this boldness from you i inherit the air of a highborn lady, while not without the humility of a low born daughter from you i inherit gentle hands of craft into fists of rage and fire that melt away sorrows from you i rise and fall, for from you i breathe. unspoken it was passed down, and yet it stirs and whispers to me in my bones of ancient thought and force, passed down from kin to kin, from one blood to another of temperance and will that flow like tradition— a book written on age-old sandstone pressed eons below the earth, text mapped in bloodlines over a body, not alone. never fading. you bid me to rise from dust and ashes into the woman of your forging, and so with a kiss between my brow for farewell and fortune i may live with your light tucked into my heart, because my inheritance lives within me.

21

In her veins is the blood of Choctaw Welsh Minoan Flowing like the Warrior River- Tributaries to rivulets- (to terror for fleeing silt, at the same) Secrets flow there as well. The Waters Women are buoyed upon this simple fact But in winter there comes an occasional freeze and the river goes silent, the blood slows in the turtles nesting beside the Warrior, too cold to shift beak or claw and the Waters women will speak of other things buried deep beneath the Warrior, beneath pride and circumstance. The Gulf clams lick the ocean floor Blind but for taste - how can they know the tongue from the beak? It's a mystery to me how they survive at all, In the Gulf ocean In the Warrior In the Waters who live at the edge of Waterfalls, at the Warriors weeping banks, where the snow has all gone.

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Mar 5, 2015

Mar 5, 2015 at 3:27 PM UTC

lindy

Waters

In her veins is the blood of Choctaw Welsh Minoan Flowing like the Warrior River- Tributaries to rivulets- (to terror for fleeing silt, at the same) Secrets flow there as well. The Waters Women are buoyed upon this simple fact But in winter there comes an occasional freeze and the river goes silent, the blood slows in the turtles nesting beside the Warrior, too cold to shift beak or claw and the Waters women will speak of other things buried deep beneath the Warrior, beneath pride and circumstance. The Gulf clams lick the ocean floor Blind but for taste - how can they know the tongue from the beak? It's a mystery to me how they survive at all, In the Gulf ocean In the Warrior In the Waters who live at the edge of Waterfalls, at the Warriors weeping banks, where the snow has all gone.

15