#collisions - Hello Poetry

the first time, touched us, otherwise strangers delving within ourselves our overt close encounters past intimate imitations of love’s labour lost and gained we collide again and again crossing over, crossing under energies focused at the hip flowing through & into one another endlessly we release feathers soaked in each other’s essence

0

Apr 18, 2014

Apr 18, 2014 at 2:16 PM UTC

phocks

an intimate crossing

the first time, touched us, otherwise strangers delving within ourselves our overt close encounters past intimate imitations of love’s labour lost and gained we collide again and again crossing over, crossing under energies focused at the hip flowing through & into one another endlessly we release feathers soaked in each other’s essence

15

I yearn for tea Amongst the tales of Xinxian. So came a flood teased The scent of Maojian. Puffs, over placid lake, and Whispered crooked mountains, Alone, the windswept pine cone, And amiss, the plateau she wept; Tears when I remember an uncle, Old man “Magic,” long gone, And his story of Love led suicide; Aggregate, One lonely island “now.” So spoke two solid oaks, The remains, and the hum Atop tip and tongue, Locals and love – For each and every time a Young man kisses His fair maiden, More pale, one chance, Subtle, the future, in stone, The frightful things that Sometimes happen. I’d watch that saga if I could, But I can’t; I’m an active participant And tomorrow, I’d be wrapped up in some Other tale, tumult or tease? A hero, or villain? Either way, I’d be happy And for some time – I knew the danger in just, “That,” and perhaps you will too, When you stumble off the stone, Or follow your own path, Wary the map of course, Where there be dragons, There be treasures and tragedy, I promise, and when you do, I only hope you Share your story with me.

0

Aug 14, 2015

Aug 14, 2015 at 10:43 AM UTC

liam-c-calhoun

Maojian

I yearn for tea Amongst the tales of Xinxian. So came a flood teased The scent of Maojian. Puffs, over placid lake, and Whispered crooked mountains, Alone, the windswept pine cone, And amiss, the plateau she wept; Tears when I remember an uncle, Old man “Magic,” long gone, And his story of Love led suicide; Aggregate, One lonely island “now.” So spoke two solid oaks, The remains, and the hum Atop tip and tongue, Locals and love – For each and every time a Young man kisses His fair maiden, More pale, one chance, Subtle, the future, in stone, The frightful things that Sometimes happen. I’d watch that saga if I could, But I can’t; I’m an active participant And tomorrow, I’d be wrapped up in some Other tale, tumult or tease? A hero, or villain? Either way, I’d be happy And for some time – I knew the danger in just, “That,” and perhaps you will too, When you stumble off the stone, Or follow your own path, Wary the map of course, Where there be dragons, There be treasures and tragedy, I promise, and when you do, I only hope you Share your story with me.

43

Blue traces of lost places Will carry me through Black clouds above dark crowds Their thunder unpack White visions of drowned collisions Set old dreams in flight

0

Nov 6, 2018

Nov 6, 2018 at 5:17 AM UTC

Nagual

Traces and Dreams

Blue traces of lost places Will carry me through Black clouds above dark crowds Their thunder unpack White visions of drowned collisions Set old dreams in flight

6