#fluidity - Hello Poetry

You're right We as poets are Self-amused entity Sane in thought Breathe with passion Dream circadian With the torrent of emotions We as poets Look toward an open sky Communicate with cosmos Question lucidness Get something from nothing Glorify average, as special Feel everything, closer Spell, when have to Stay silent, when need to Touch, the untouched See, the hidden Honor: blood, sweat and tears Revive, the beauty of life Heal, the suffered With the recipe of words We as poets Yes, by default Go beyond norms Forget a lot, but not what should not Despite everything You're right

0

Aug 30, 2020

Aug 30, 2020 at 6:33 AM UTC

mystic-ink-plus

Fluidity

You're right We as poets are Self-amused entity Sane in thought Breathe with passion Dream circadian With the torrent of emotions We as poets Look toward an open sky Communicate with cosmos Question lucidness Get something from nothing Glorify average, as special Feel everything, closer Spell, when have to Stay silent, when need to Touch, the untouched See, the hidden Honor: blood, sweat and tears Revive, the beauty of life Heal, the suffered With the recipe of words We as poets Yes, by default Go beyond norms Forget a lot, but not what should not Despite everything You're right

28

‘How quaint,’ remarked Mistress Hora as she turned the afternoon on its head, ‘that you would consider time to be a linear construct.’ ‘Positively post-historic,’ agreed Master O’Clock, nodding his head in perfect synchrony with the orchestra that played inside his ear. Today was Waltzday (or so he had named it), an interminable reminder that atomic metronomes particularly those of Viennese manufacture were not to be trifled with. ‘Be assured, my dears, that this fancy is a passing one and exists only as a fleeting extemporaneous distraction,’ our Mistress continued. The first year students breathed a collective sigh of relief. ‘Now, I want no clumping, no running ahead, and NO helical improvisation. When yesterday’s fish and chips come wrapped in tomorrow’s newspaper it gives our school a most unfortunate reputation.’ The class chortled as one. ‘Most importantly, please remember to take your pocket guide.’ I reached for my bedraggled copy of _The Theory of Chronometrical Fluidity: Compressed Edition_ and wrung the pages out. I had failed badly at applied clepsydrics and my cousin Widget wasn’t letting me forget it. From behind the glass, I spotted her playing a furtive game of Gregorian and by the look on her face February was winning. I blew her a lemniscate to grab her attention. She scowled, looked up from her losing streak and giggled when she saw me spiralling in her direction. ‘Good luck,’ she spiralled back. Miss Hora flexed her wrist and glanced at her temporal transponder. ‘You will be marked on cuneiformity, consistency, and rate of continuance. Now be off with you. Tempus fugit!’ With a flick of her bejangled fingers she opened the S.A.N.D. grates. I held my breath and jumped.

0

Dec 9, 2019

Dec 9, 2019 at 5:03 PM UTC

annh

Mistress Hora Teaches S.A.N.D. Witches To Spool

‘How quaint,’ remarked Mistress Hora as she turned the afternoon on its head, ‘that you would consider time to be a linear construct.’ ‘Positively post-historic,’ agreed Master O’Clock, nodding his head in perfect synchrony with the orchestra that played inside his ear. Today was Waltzday (or so he had named it), an interminable reminder that atomic metronomes particularly those of Viennese manufacture were not to be trifled with. ‘Be assured, my dears, that this fancy is a passing one and exists only as a fleeting extemporaneous distraction,’ our Mistress continued. The first year students breathed a collective sigh of relief. ‘Now, I want no clumping, no running ahead, and NO helical improvisation. When yesterday’s fish and chips come wrapped in tomorrow’s newspaper it gives our school a most unfortunate reputation.’ The class chortled as one. ‘Most importantly, please remember to take your pocket guide.’ I reached for my bedraggled copy of _The Theory of Chronometrical Fluidity: Compressed Edition_ and wrung the pages out. I had failed badly at applied clepsydrics and my cousin Widget wasn’t letting me forget it. From behind the glass, I spotted her playing a furtive game of Gregorian and by the look on her face February was winning. I blew her a lemniscate to grab her attention. She scowled, looked up from her losing streak and giggled when she saw me spiralling in her direction. ‘Good luck,’ she spiralled back. Miss Hora flexed her wrist and glanced at her temporal transponder. ‘You will be marked on cuneiformity, consistency, and rate of continuance. Now be off with you. Tempus fugit!’ With a flick of her bejangled fingers she opened the S.A.N.D. grates. I held my breath and jumped.

5

An iridescent collection of condensation forms the warmth that once was, fades with fluidity weightless blades begin to dance passionately rumbling collides with the earth below supple gems fall in tempo, bursting with brisk nectar clarity blooms as filth washes away leaving pure balance to reign.

0

May 23, 2019

May 23, 2019 at 12:10 PM UTC

rhodochro

Cloudburst

An iridescent collection of condensation forms the warmth that once was, fades with fluidity weightless blades begin to dance passionately rumbling collides with the earth below supple gems fall in tempo, bursting with brisk nectar clarity blooms as filth washes away leaving pure balance to reign.

7

As a child I dabbled in ****** No barbie was safe from the hands of their god Ran hills caked to the toe Roughed terrain with neighborhood boys They called me girl But I felt boy Upon later years I learned: Dress Skirt Bra Flower Amenities accustomed to this body; A bustling street of hormones without a red light Next were ******* Wild & rambling, I soon Mastered the art of shrinking I kissed my first boy & felt it rattle through my bones His hair an ocean in my hands as I rose up to the surface Later I discovered the shared experience of Woman, Shifting about the world as a silly metaphor Carved fingers into mace & metal Ankles clinking busily on a subway platform In learning to fight The young boy dwindled into memory and I couldn’t sense shape anymore Fell in and out of love with woman and man alike, Sinking deep into salt & sand These days I can’t help but wonder if attraction is a mode of defense Or that of love These days I run hills in heels Caked to the toe in color -- c

0

Mar 13, 2018

Mar 13, 2018 at 1:11 AM UTC

onhiatus

Lessons I Learned As A Young Boy

As a child I dabbled in ****** No barbie was safe from the hands of their god Ran hills caked to the toe Roughed terrain with neighborhood boys They called me girl But I felt boy Upon later years I learned: Dress Skirt Bra Flower Amenities accustomed to this body; A bustling street of hormones without a red light Next were ******* Wild & rambling, I soon Mastered the art of shrinking I kissed my first boy & felt it rattle through my bones His hair an ocean in my hands as I rose up to the surface Later I discovered the shared experience of Woman, Shifting about the world as a silly metaphor Carved fingers into mace & metal Ankles clinking busily on a subway platform In learning to fight The young boy dwindled into memory and I couldn’t sense shape anymore Fell in and out of love with woman and man alike, Sinking deep into salt & sand These days I can’t help but wonder if attraction is a mode of defense Or that of love These days I run hills in heels Caked to the toe in color -- c

36

a dress a skirt pink lipstick that never felt quite like me baggy pants baseball cap dirt and roughhousing that wasn't quite me either I was ugly or at least everyone told me I was I was too masculine acting sometimes feminine features my chest was too flat to be a real girl my walk was too swagger infused my fashion style, too--- not enough cleavage if you know what I mean apparently a shirt and a pair of pants suddenly made me unattractive to both sexes both sexes both I felt like both makeup and a baseball cap flat chest, and a flower skirt skateboards and hair products galore looking back, I was always fluid. the gender waters in which I was drowing I was only drowning in because I can swim in both currents fluid fluid fluid **** Living Under Imposed Doctrines

0

Sep 17, 2017

Sep 17, 2017 at 1:25 PM UTC

alexandriatatiana

Fluidity

a dress a skirt pink lipstick that never felt quite like me baggy pants baseball cap dirt and roughhousing that wasn't quite me either I was ugly or at least everyone told me I was I was too masculine acting sometimes feminine features my chest was too flat to be a real girl my walk was too swagger infused my fashion style, too--- not enough cleavage if you know what I mean apparently a shirt and a pair of pants suddenly made me unattractive to both sexes both sexes both I felt like both makeup and a baseball cap flat chest, and a flower skirt skateboards and hair products galore looking back, I was always fluid. the gender waters in which I was drowing I was only drowning in because I can swim in both currents fluid fluid fluid **** Living Under Imposed Doctrines

34

You float over the concrete the way driftwood rides the ocean waves, smooth and graceful. Your arms rise to the sky in sync with your legs like a puppet, but you hold your own strings, you control your own movements so seamlessly as if you were born with a board beneath your feet. Your eyes hold focus how a starving man holds a scrap of bread, not fully moldy in the garbage. You spin and swap your body with the lash of a whip and how I wish you'd crack me just once so I could taste your precision. How beautiful a sight it is to see someone so perfectly aligned with the Earth that gravity allows you a pass on the rules. And when you're finished the passion that beams from you is so intoxicating, I'm too unsteady on my feet to try to follow.

0

Apr 26, 2017

Apr 26, 2017 at 4:06 PM UTC

Donielle

Fluidity

You float over the concrete the way driftwood rides the ocean waves, smooth and graceful. Your arms rise to the sky in sync with your legs like a puppet, but you hold your own strings, you control your own movements so seamlessly as if you were born with a board beneath your feet. Your eyes hold focus how a starving man holds a scrap of bread, not fully moldy in the garbage. You spin and swap your body with the lash of a whip and how I wish you'd crack me just once so I could taste your precision. How beautiful a sight it is to see someone so perfectly aligned with the Earth that gravity allows you a pass on the rules. And when you're finished the passion that beams from you is so intoxicating, I'm too unsteady on my feet to try to follow.

30

I see you on the middle line between the sun and moon. You can't decide to cross into time Or give yourself more room. But the days are moving through us now, And I feel a change coming soon: The horizon between light and dark, The stay-or-go wars within the heart.

0

Nov 18, 2016

Nov 18, 2016 at 9:26 PM UTC

melanie-kate-dickerson

Horizon

I see you on the middle line between the sun and moon. You can't decide to cross into time Or give yourself more room. But the days are moving through us now, And I feel a change coming soon: The horizon between light and dark, The stay-or-go wars within the heart.

8

At it's ecstatic heights, life is a splendid display of ballet moves. I watch you fly high precariously, stopping a beat of my enamored heart with an astounding move speaking beauty and dexterously land statuesque, in a graceful arabesque stance. Defying gravity with amazing ease you create beauty none ever dreamed, so kaleidoscopic, appreciating it means touching the eternal with one's being in a fleeting moment, get transported. For that, one needs a mind as sharp as razor's edge and constantly pirouetting 360 degrees embracing you at the speed of light, before you turn to a lightening flash,of different wavelength, all over again and begin the next cycle.

0

Mar 25, 2016

Mar 25, 2016 at 9:18 PM UTC

k-balachandran

Arabesque

At it's ecstatic heights, life is a splendid display of ballet moves. I watch you fly high precariously, stopping a beat of my enamored heart with an astounding move speaking beauty and dexterously land statuesque, in a graceful arabesque stance. Defying gravity with amazing ease you create beauty none ever dreamed, so kaleidoscopic, appreciating it means touching the eternal with one's being in a fleeting moment, get transported. For that, one needs a mind as sharp as razor's edge and constantly pirouetting 360 degrees embracing you at the speed of light, before you turn to a lightening flash,of different wavelength, all over again and begin the next cycle.

18

Distorted sense of time Seconds changed to minutes Minutes to hours then days The years stacked collections of Dusty shelves of memories Ringing telephones, one sided calls, no replies ~silence~ The striking of their shooting nerves It rattled and shook them They changed shape Fluidity in their being Trying to settle Trying to calm down.

0

Apr 28, 2014

Apr 28, 2014 at 4:15 AM UTC

betweenthelines

Fluidity/Losing My Mind

Distorted sense of time Seconds changed to minutes Minutes to hours then days The years stacked collections of Dusty shelves of memories Ringing telephones, one sided calls, no replies ~silence~ The striking of their shooting nerves It rattled and shook them They changed shape Fluidity in their being Trying to settle Trying to calm down.

13