#interpret - Hello Poetry

Supple. Soft. Bare it. Bare it now. Tougher. Harder. That won’t do. Move up. Seamless. Untouched. Grab it. Pull it. Is it ready? Inspecting for impurities That will ruin this rare experience. Drag it. Rip it. Tear it. But no. This time it glides. Smooth. Effortless. Over. And Over. So fast. Grinning wide. Insides now outsides. Spillages for someone else to clean.

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Jul 5, 2020

Jul 5, 2020 at 5:22 PM UTC

SlymeiClaira

Old Skin, New.

Supple. Soft. Bare it. Bare it now. Tougher. Harder. That won’t do. Move up. Seamless. Untouched. Grab it. Pull it. Is it ready? Inspecting for impurities That will ruin this rare experience. Drag it. Rip it. Tear it. But no. This time it glides. Smooth. Effortless. Over. And Over. So fast. Grinning wide. Insides now outsides. Spillages for someone else to clean.

18

The colors in your eyes swirl through each other Like chromatic snakes Locked in embrace Or perhaps a fight to the death. Ring around the rosy; I cannot catch my breath. Their scales diffract my tiny face And send me to another place They leave me guessing Too busy, impressing You

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Jan 16, 2019

Jan 16, 2019 at 2:01 AM UTC

motency

Well, this was abstract.

The colors in your eyes swirl through each other Like chromatic snakes Locked in embrace Or perhaps a fight to the death. Ring around the rosy; I cannot catch my breath. Their scales diffract my tiny face And send me to another place They leave me guessing Too busy, impressing You

11

- Jump Don't think Darling.

0

Jan 7, 2019

Jan 7, 2019 at 7:57 PM UTC

nja

Interpret

- Jump Don't think Darling.

3

Let me ask-- what is worthy of being untitled? What is the poem or story with so much meaning that it cannot be labeled? Is my work worthy of being without a title? Is this poem that meaningful? Will a title spoil the emotion? --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- When we see something untitled, there always seems to be a reoccurring sense of intrigue surrounding it. I wonder if you'll be intrigued when you read this. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- If I filled this page up with hyphens and forward slashes, would it still be intriguing? You could say yes, since there could be a secret meaning or code within the longer and shorter lines. But what if I told you there was no meaning to any of this? What if everything you're reading in this poem is nonsense? Would there be any way to know? You might argue that you could ask me. But what if there is no answer? --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Now I wonder why you're still interpreting these words. I hold nothing against you... I just don't see the point.

0

Dec 30, 2018

Dec 30, 2018 at 7:53 PM UTC

Spinning infinities ******* lucky fingernails scrolling above my beyond strategy of neglecting starfish in memory models by seeing forever the kind finding ways of loathing to the series of establishments never to bend on fire for strategy including harbor cleverness in a wording not common of rogue mill goats because my numbers fell in line with going heavy on the sauce.

0

Aug 24, 2018

Aug 24, 2018 at 12:28 PM UTC

dapunnisher

Ramblings

Spinning infinities ******* lucky fingernails scrolling above my beyond strategy of neglecting starfish in memory models by seeing forever the kind finding ways of loathing to the series of establishments never to bend on fire for strategy including harbor cleverness in a wording not common of rogue mill goats because my numbers fell in line with going heavy on the sauce.

1

I'm not Joseph no "no" to temptations thy greatness, O' He grant me a vision to interpret day dreams may I know how to sacrifice me for her kisses on my forehead, flee...

0

Jul 23, 2018

Jul 23, 2018 at 7:04 PM UTC

Thatpoetqaf

Interpretation

I'm not Joseph no "no" to temptations thy greatness, O' He grant me a vision to interpret day dreams may I know how to sacrifice me for her kisses on my forehead, flee...

12

A row of shoes were lined up, Ready to be slipped on Each pair unique, telling tales It’s owner’s burden buried deep their sufferings carried on One of the pairs horribly reeked Of long hours under the sun Soaked with sweat and tears That leaked from it’s owner’s eyes And seeped through the owner’s toes Exploitation and oppression Tattered and slipper strings snapped Which brings into question Can we dare walk in those shoes? Another pair was rather extravagant Bejewelled, dazzling with rubies The aroma of vanilla spreading Through the radiant effervescence Yet it held a vibe so ominous Perhaps emitting unhappiness From the riches that brought no glee Which brings into question Can we dare walk in those shoes? Slipping your feet into a pair crawling, walking or sprinting Empathising in their shoes Shredded from sufferings Or stitched with threads of hope What truly matters in those shoes Is to understand with compassion Gaining a glimpse of their wars To interpret, understand and empathise With “Verstehen” we can learn And share our battle scars Then perhaps, we can accept ourselves And each other in solace so let us ask ourselves, once again; Can we dare step into their shoes?

0

Jun 29, 2018

Jun 29, 2018 at 5:44 AM UTC

sublimelove

Walking in their Shoes

A row of shoes were lined up, Ready to be slipped on Each pair unique, telling tales It’s owner’s burden buried deep their sufferings carried on One of the pairs horribly reeked Of long hours under the sun Soaked with sweat and tears That leaked from it’s owner’s eyes And seeped through the owner’s toes Exploitation and oppression Tattered and slipper strings snapped Which brings into question Can we dare walk in those shoes? Another pair was rather extravagant Bejewelled, dazzling with rubies The aroma of vanilla spreading Through the radiant effervescence Yet it held a vibe so ominous Perhaps emitting unhappiness From the riches that brought no glee Which brings into question Can we dare walk in those shoes? Slipping your feet into a pair crawling, walking or sprinting Empathising in their shoes Shredded from sufferings Or stitched with threads of hope What truly matters in those shoes Is to understand with compassion Gaining a glimpse of their wars To interpret, understand and empathise With “Verstehen” we can learn And share our battle scars Then perhaps, we can accept ourselves And each other in solace so let us ask ourselves, once again; Can we dare step into their shoes?

38

I am the dream that breathes I am the blur of thoughts I am the embodiment of harmony as well as chaos I am a glamoured lie with shadowed truths I am a reflection of my reality I am an eruption of expression, a flame born of passion I am art of life's experience, not a body or object of perverse nature I am a fragment of knowledge that walks with untapped potential

0

Jun 22, 2018

Jun 22, 2018 at 5:11 PM UTC

Lyn-Purcell

Living Art

I am the dream that breathes I am the blur of thoughts I am the embodiment of harmony as well as chaos I am a glamoured lie with shadowed truths I am a reflection of my reality I am an eruption of expression, a flame born of passion I am art of life's experience, not a body or object of perverse nature I am a fragment of knowledge that walks with untapped potential

8

I've got a list of adjectives I use to describe myself But their meanings change when told to someone else

0

Aug 24, 2016

Aug 24, 2016 at 12:23 PM UTC

cheyenne37

What are three words you would use to describe yourself?

I've got a list of adjectives I use to describe myself But their meanings change when told to someone else

2

their gazes cut silently at my flesh, they wish me nought but pain and death, i breathe in deep in hopes of inner-peace, but come up short as their claws pierce my skin, see my words create images in your head, so remember this as you lay your head, words can heal just as easily as they can ****

0

May 19, 2016

May 19, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC

perfectsilence

words

their gazes cut silently at my flesh, they wish me nought but pain and death, i breathe in deep in hopes of inner-peace, but come up short as their claws pierce my skin, see my words create images in your head, so remember this as you lay your head, words can heal just as easily as they can ****

7

If Jesus is the question, What is the question? Is it, let's say, Youth disaffection? Kids need to be taught to say, "Back off' to drugs and bullies these days, Jesus as a forever friend, To wisdom their lives to wend, How can we reach more of them? In this modern, digital age, Introductions need to be made, If an issue, is, indeed, Youth disaffection, Is Jesus the answer to this question?

0

Dec 27, 2015

Dec 27, 2015 at 7:05 PM UTC

julie-grenness

QUESTION

If Jesus is the question, What is the question? Is it, let's say, Youth disaffection? Kids need to be taught to say, "Back off' to drugs and bullies these days, Jesus as a forever friend, To wisdom their lives to wend, How can we reach more of them? In this modern, digital age, Introductions need to be made, If an issue, is, indeed, Youth disaffection, Is Jesus the answer to this question?

14

Poems move in currents changing speed and splitting ways, and we watch. The rolling faire, the words they share leave beauty behind, ignorant, understood by one; intentions only guessed while images we digest from origin unknown. We read, we take, we contemplate. But unless traversing upstream, over boulders, holding rocks, growing tired as we near the point of pain we never see its start. The water breaks through stone, alone... And where, only the poet knows.

0

Sep 26, 2015

Sep 26, 2015 at 11:44 AM UTC

amy-ha

only the poet knows

Poems move in currents changing speed and splitting ways, and we watch. The rolling faire, the words they share leave beauty behind, ignorant, understood by one; intentions only guessed while images we digest from origin unknown. We read, we take, we contemplate. But unless traversing upstream, over boulders, holding rocks, growing tired as we near the point of pain we never see its start. The water breaks through stone, alone... And where, only the poet knows.

23

I'm walking a path that goes nowhere Riding on a train to eternity Flying to infinity Biking to forever Running to limitless But my shoes are falling apart My train is derailed My plane is crashing My bike is rusting My legs are failing But I'm okay for now

0

Dec 10, 2014

Dec 10, 2014 at 10:39 PM UTC

un-titled

Okay for now

I'm walking a path that goes nowhere Riding on a train to eternity Flying to infinity Biking to forever Running to limitless But my shoes are falling apart My train is derailed My plane is crashing My bike is rusting My legs are failing But I'm okay for now

11

Lamoon smiles like the sun. Call me home, before dinner lamoon. Sweet lamoon making no sense, silly lamoon says she can't dance. Lamoon my hands get cold, and so do yours. Lamoon, glimmer on my dear. Lovely lamoon, white as a flower. Scent like a ballroom. Always has the answer, lamoon. Lamoon with grace to skip along stars. Shoes in hand, and the trickles of hope falling on us. Lamoon shine bright on. Lamoon, you're your own song. A hymn. A cord. La Lamoon, gleam netted eyes, and rose hugged lips. La Lamoon free and close. La Lamoon, making me feel like I've seen a ghost. Taking breath and stealing hearts. La Lamoon enchanting echos chant, "La, Lamoon!" I see her in the horizon, watering the road. She plants me in the ground and tells me to grow. Pouring her nectar over me, and running the street so free. La Lamoon singing a wonder so happy.

0

Jun 4, 2014

Jun 4, 2014 at 2:17 PM UTC

deanna

Lamoon

Lamoon smiles like the sun. Call me home, before dinner lamoon. Sweet lamoon making no sense, silly lamoon says she can't dance. Lamoon my hands get cold, and so do yours. Lamoon, glimmer on my dear. Lovely lamoon, white as a flower. Scent like a ballroom. Always has the answer, lamoon. Lamoon with grace to skip along stars. Shoes in hand, and the trickles of hope falling on us. Lamoon shine bright on. Lamoon, you're your own song. A hymn. A cord. La Lamoon, gleam netted eyes, and rose hugged lips. La Lamoon free and close. La Lamoon, making me feel like I've seen a ghost. Taking breath and stealing hearts. La Lamoon enchanting echos chant, "La, Lamoon!" I see her in the horizon, watering the road. She plants me in the ground and tells me to grow. Pouring her nectar over me, and running the street so free. La Lamoon singing a wonder so happy.

46