#debussy - Hello Poetry

your soul is a chosen landscape charmed by masqueraders and revelers dancing under the moonlight in a minor key with a certain sadness upon their glimmering cheeks stardust kissing those hands that caress the side of your cheek your mask, removed bathed in some azure glow eyes, bright and intensely staring, beyond just yourself but something deeper and more meaningful than ever before. to know you, without your mask is like knowing why the moon sits in the sky as she does or why the birds fly or how the water on the shore pulls forward and backwards bringing in and out creatures and memories of past lovers. there is something in us buried, warm, alive that speaks to me when I see you it whispers to me in another language that I cannot yet understand impassioned voice intently seeking my attention so that I may look upon you and fear nothing any longer. a song, you are the universe, inside of you.

0

Sep 7, 2018

Sep 7, 2018 at 11:21 AM UTC

lynne-ks

clair de lune

your soul is a chosen landscape charmed by masqueraders and revelers dancing under the moonlight in a minor key with a certain sadness upon their glimmering cheeks stardust kissing those hands that caress the side of your cheek your mask, removed bathed in some azure glow eyes, bright and intensely staring, beyond just yourself but something deeper and more meaningful than ever before. to know you, without your mask is like knowing why the moon sits in the sky as she does or why the birds fly or how the water on the shore pulls forward and backwards bringing in and out creatures and memories of past lovers. there is something in us buried, warm, alive that speaks to me when I see you it whispers to me in another language that I cannot yet understand impassioned voice intently seeking my attention so that I may look upon you and fear nothing any longer. a song, you are the universe, inside of you.

34

Before you collapsed back to the blank face of Ys, back onto damp sands, just for an instant, I stopped. (in my desk chair) and saw your spires, heard your swollen bells and smiled in the sun. You rose in earnest, sang to the horizon(!) the casual and the causal. the waves eddied around you and suddenly, as easily as you drew from the seabed, you let me know, everything that matters (one day) collapses.

0

Feb 5, 2018

Feb 5, 2018 at 2:25 AM UTC

l-perry

La cathédrale engloutie: a poem in appreciation

Before you collapsed back to the blank face of Ys, back onto damp sands, just for an instant, I stopped. (in my desk chair) and saw your spires, heard your swollen bells and smiled in the sun. You rose in earnest, sang to the horizon(!) the casual and the causal. the waves eddied around you and suddenly, as easily as you drew from the seabed, you let me know, everything that matters (one day) collapses.

19

Silent, unexpected ripples As the first flakes softly alight on the lake, A crisp inhale with eyes closed Followed by a joyous vaporization of cloud. When vision flutters back into focus, A spectacle ever-more lovely than the last. The muffled crunching around the trail, near-muted chattering of chipmunks, windy flurries whistling then growing placid, the softened screech of a hawk subdued now to an awed whisper - Mounting and falling like a Debussy. Clearer and more humbly triumphant than cathedral bells. This suite - this bright panorama Shows me to the brink of an elation within And brushes my crystalline spirit. It sings and I overflow - Light pours drop by rapturous drop From each eye.

0

Oct 9, 2017

Oct 9, 2017 at 9:04 PM UTC

subconscious-on-parade

Day 9: Screech

Silent, unexpected ripples As the first flakes softly alight on the lake, A crisp inhale with eyes closed Followed by a joyous vaporization of cloud. When vision flutters back into focus, A spectacle ever-more lovely than the last. The muffled crunching around the trail, near-muted chattering of chipmunks, windy flurries whistling then growing placid, the softened screech of a hawk subdued now to an awed whisper - Mounting and falling like a Debussy. Clearer and more humbly triumphant than cathedral bells. This suite - this bright panorama Shows me to the brink of an elation within And brushes my crystalline spirit. It sings and I overflow - Light pours drop by rapturous drop From each eye.

20

Like Debussy's arabesque we danced, your feet too slow, and mine too fast, in different times, yet intertwined, we cascaded like the notes brushed by gentle fingers;

0

Jan 28, 2016

Jan 28, 2016 at 12:52 PM UTC

faithfulpadfoot

Première Arabesque

Like Debussy's arabesque we danced, your feet too slow, and mine too fast, in different times, yet intertwined, we cascaded like the notes brushed by gentle fingers;

6

she stood outside the apartment finger halfway up her nose scratching with her free hand a **** loosely encased in patchy, ***** blue jeans ratty sneakers with holes where her toes and dignity poked through usually a whiner, a brayer a donkey among gently purring cats calling down thunder and racket like a motorcycle tearing circles through a lamp shop today, of all days, she swayed silently in loose waltz time to soft piano of a long-dead Frenchman curling down from speakers mounted in windows across the street her misshapen hips and flexing calf muscles lifting her up in a rude en pointe somehow made elegant by a quiet ballad, a soothing moment on a hot August morning in Main Street of the hinterlands. 2/12/2015

0

Feb 12, 2015

Feb 12, 2015 at 8:48 AM UTC

LydonWrites

Clarie, duh loon.

she stood outside the apartment finger halfway up her nose scratching with her free hand a **** loosely encased in patchy, ***** blue jeans ratty sneakers with holes where her toes and dignity poked through usually a whiner, a brayer a donkey among gently purring cats calling down thunder and racket like a motorcycle tearing circles through a lamp shop today, of all days, she swayed silently in loose waltz time to soft piano of a long-dead Frenchman curling down from speakers mounted in windows across the street her misshapen hips and flexing calf muscles lifting her up in a rude en pointe somehow made elegant by a quiet ballad, a soothing moment on a hot August morning in Main Street of the hinterlands. 2/12/2015

26

When your fingers move within the betweens of keys, white then black, scaling and tumbling through and over knuckles and joints and wrinkled imprints does your chest flutter arpeggios and dance along with tender pale-pink ballet slippers balancing, spinning in a reflecting room of mirrors, the echoes of a pentatonic scale the pounding of parallel chords nudging your toes exactly right, do you forget your wives and daughter, both Emma’s, when you let the genius-flow and the grand piano waltz with your soul, do you fall in love with something more I cant describe in verse, delicate Debussy.

0

Nov 14, 2014

Nov 14, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC

chase-graham

For Claude

When your fingers move within the betweens of keys, white then black, scaling and tumbling through and over knuckles and joints and wrinkled imprints does your chest flutter arpeggios and dance along with tender pale-pink ballet slippers balancing, spinning in a reflecting room of mirrors, the echoes of a pentatonic scale the pounding of parallel chords nudging your toes exactly right, do you forget your wives and daughter, both Emma’s, when you let the genius-flow and the grand piano waltz with your soul, do you fall in love with something more I cant describe in verse, delicate Debussy.

20

O Debussy, I run home from the bar to hear the sssssound of those sssssyllables inciting the ripplesssss of fingersssss that will ssssshudder my sssssheltered sssssoul. Your soul too beautiful to write but a ********* I must try... BRUCE LIKES TO **** SO YOU SHOULD BUY HIS BOOK. AUDIBLE, AN AMAZON COMPANY. indecipherable terms and conditions **SHUT THE **** UP SPOTIFY.** I'M TRYING TO WRITE. Ahh. That's better. O Debussy, your accents strike me like the moon, Clair De Lune. Shine your genius upon me and light my way forward through the next bus ride. I will imagine the silver grass pastures that inspired you, through the ***** window that inspires me, with buildings. more buildings. still more buildings. Wow. These cheap headphones really corrupt Reverie... you must have sounded awesome live, at the piano, by your side.... AT SQUARE SPACE WE BELIEVE IN THE CREATIVE ABILITY OF THE INDIVIDUAL... Then **SHUT THE **** UP** and let me write. O Debussy, your chords set free souls — caged birds that **** less. Well souls don't **** at all, but that isn't the point. But seriously you... HELLO SPOTIFY USER. WE HOPE WE ARE ANNOYING THE **** OUT OF YOU AND THAT YOUR DAY IS AWESOME. GO PREMIUM. :) I give up. Debussy, you're great. I ****

0

Aug 22, 2014

Aug 22, 2014 at 3:06 AM UTC

courtney-pruitt

Debussy inspires the frustrated writer.

O Debussy, I run home from the bar to hear the sssssound of those sssssyllables inciting the ripplesssss of fingersssss that will ssssshudder my sssssheltered sssssoul. Your soul too beautiful to write but a ********* I must try... BRUCE LIKES TO **** SO YOU SHOULD BUY HIS BOOK. AUDIBLE, AN AMAZON COMPANY. indecipherable terms and conditions **SHUT THE **** UP SPOTIFY.** I'M TRYING TO WRITE. Ahh. That's better. O Debussy, your accents strike me like the moon, Clair De Lune. Shine your genius upon me and light my way forward through the next bus ride. I will imagine the silver grass pastures that inspired you, through the ***** window that inspires me, with buildings. more buildings. still more buildings. Wow. These cheap headphones really corrupt Reverie... you must have sounded awesome live, at the piano, by your side.... AT SQUARE SPACE WE BELIEVE IN THE CREATIVE ABILITY OF THE INDIVIDUAL... Then **SHUT THE **** UP** and let me write. O Debussy, your chords set free souls — caged birds that **** less. Well souls don't **** at all, but that isn't the point. But seriously you... HELLO SPOTIFY USER. WE HOPE WE ARE ANNOYING THE **** OUT OF YOU AND THAT YOUR DAY IS AWESOME. GO PREMIUM. :) I give up. Debussy, you're great. I ****

56

She took my stash, slapped my *** and grabbed my vinyls, took them for another. She ate my kimchi, and ate my **** and ate my grub. She reminded my of Morgan, and sometimes she acted.

0

Jun 8, 2014

Jun 8, 2014 at 8:36 AM UTC

Borges

Naughty Girl

She took my stash, slapped my *** and grabbed my vinyls, took them for another. She ate my kimchi, and ate my **** and ate my grub. She reminded my of Morgan, and sometimes she acted.

9