#earlier - Hello Poetry

minute dewdrops clung onto the tall grass blades earlier this morning

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Aug 30, 2020

Aug 30, 2020 at 11:04 PM UTC

ElizabethSquires

Haiku

minute dewdrops clung onto the tall grass blades earlier this morning

3

Though you have me aswoon I feel to you burdensome Afraid that by the next full moon A hindrance is what I will become My hands are heavy, head is hung Ego has severely shrunk I know that in your eyes I appear young That's why my confidence sunk Compared to you I am immature Always angry, blowing up It is not your fault I'm insecure So I get why you're contemplating a break-up From now on I will get up earlier Try to be more like you If you promise you'll stay forever I will do whatever you want me to

0

Sep 30, 2018

Sep 30, 2018 at 8:22 AM UTC

AmandaKayBurke

By The Next Full Moon

Though you have me aswoon I feel to you burdensome Afraid that by the next full moon A hindrance is what I will become My hands are heavy, head is hung Ego has severely shrunk I know that in your eyes I appear young That's why my confidence sunk Compared to you I am immature Always angry, blowing up It is not your fault I'm insecure So I get why you're contemplating a break-up From now on I will get up earlier Try to be more like you If you promise you'll stay forever I will do whatever you want me to

16

My bones are sore At close of day With pain in feet And hair more grey And now begins the Springtime slurry Winter's death, The sprouting fury... But it's the autumn Of my days And joints now throb And mind's a haze Yet Spring awakens Yearnings which Have long lain dormant How the itch Distracts a stiff From daily dribblings Daydreams, donned With nubile nibblings And out into The wood I jaunt Till pagan ponderings Hellishly haunt The corners of My craggly crown The parietal plunder Pulling down But satyr romps Among tree bases With myriad pictures Of countless faces Create a stiffness 'Mid sickened stones Not of ***** but Of the bones At close of day A man lay hoping For another day's Eyes to open O new day come It's not too late Inner wellspring Satiate!

0

Mar 31, 2018

Mar 31, 2018 at 2:28 PM UTC

Brotherjimmy

Springtime slurry

My bones are sore At close of day With pain in feet And hair more grey And now begins the Springtime slurry Winter's death, The sprouting fury... But it's the autumn Of my days And joints now throb And mind's a haze Yet Spring awakens Yearnings which Have long lain dormant How the itch Distracts a stiff From daily dribblings Daydreams, donned With nubile nibblings And out into The wood I jaunt Till pagan ponderings Hellishly haunt The corners of My craggly crown The parietal plunder Pulling down But satyr romps Among tree bases With myriad pictures Of countless faces Create a stiffness 'Mid sickened stones Not of ***** but Of the bones At close of day A man lay hoping For another day's Eyes to open O new day come It's not too late Inner wellspring Satiate!

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