#manifold - Hello Poetry

Walking past spiral arms of galaxies I hid myself in folds of a warped reflected on the morning walls, timeline; deeds that filtered all light out. Bent clocks, warped doors, stretched arms, Awash in the waves of your G-rays But your song found me. bathed in sublime warmth; I see your finger twirling universes out, I've seen your hand pick me up your lips kiss the flaming skies. in every timeline I've walked. Which manifold do you inhabit, I know you, time-traveler, miracle-monger? Hymns, hushed whispers, a hundred jasmine buds, the distant stars, synapses.

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Jan 26, 2015

Jan 26, 2015 at 3:39 PM UTC

prabhu-iyer

G-rays | Surrealist poem

Walking past spiral arms of galaxies I hid myself in folds of a warped reflected on the morning walls, timeline; deeds that filtered all light out. Bent clocks, warped doors, stretched arms, Awash in the waves of your G-rays But your song found me. bathed in sublime warmth; I see your finger twirling universes out, I've seen your hand pick me up your lips kiss the flaming skies. in every timeline I've walked. Which manifold do you inhabit, I know you, time-traveler, miracle-monger? Hymns, hushed whispers, a hundred jasmine buds, the distant stars, synapses.

12

Famed to have brought light into being, but dark, dark you are my friend, passing through me effortlessly, though I know there is an interaction: week, very week. Deep there buried somewhere in my soul was a throb heard, when every miracle that forms the chain of my life surfaces: and I've been searching for you. I thought you were beyond oceans, where sky meets, until my ship turned around at the horizon; I looked for you in the womb of terran vaults and then in the planets and the stars, and you have been collapsing fields and manifesting timelines so I proposer, meanwhile. You are not what I worshipped in image and then smashed it and sought in formless word. Every time I grasp you, you vanish, retreat, bubble-being, who knows what exists beyond this expanse we inhabit, these membranes and curled up manifolds, where in the knots I'm still searching; But before even this unfolds in full, I discover, it is all dark, darkness that holds these tiny galaxies of light in its densest folds; Magicienne, wave your wand, let us know beyond the dark and the illuminated, let us in, into the secret chamber of kinship.

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Apr 22, 2015

Apr 22, 2015 at 6:08 PM UTC

prabhu-iyer

Fiat Lux - II

Famed to have brought light into being, but dark, dark you are my friend, passing through me effortlessly, though I know there is an interaction: week, very week. Deep there buried somewhere in my soul was a throb heard, when every miracle that forms the chain of my life surfaces: and I've been searching for you. I thought you were beyond oceans, where sky meets, until my ship turned around at the horizon; I looked for you in the womb of terran vaults and then in the planets and the stars, and you have been collapsing fields and manifesting timelines so I proposer, meanwhile. You are not what I worshipped in image and then smashed it and sought in formless word. Every time I grasp you, you vanish, retreat, bubble-being, who knows what exists beyond this expanse we inhabit, these membranes and curled up manifolds, where in the knots I'm still searching; But before even this unfolds in full, I discover, it is all dark, darkness that holds these tiny galaxies of light in its densest folds; Magicienne, wave your wand, let us know beyond the dark and the illuminated, let us in, into the secret chamber of kinship.

26

1. I’m climbing hills today in one, effete poet’s way they could be metaphors for all sorts of ‘big life things’ but in another, my belly is about to give my knees some trouble 2. The sepia on this one’s different there was sometimes bitterness in steps made here as the lure of the theme park rides sat so near but the years have done a lot to replace the roller coaster thrill with the heart weight of hills, dales and rivers with tales to tell 3. You remember I mentioned the metaphor? And the belly troubling the knees? Well these things came to pass as I hauled my carcass up the hill turning the air blue The metaphor? Decisions that once were natural, easy like breathing now can feel laboured, burdened when a step is placed how can I be sure the ground will hold? Even at the peak, where I once could exhale at the majesty of a job well done I’m now fraught with the thought of the journey down 4. This river is different at home the stream accompanies me on local walks, showing me the known and keeping my chin up Here, the bold broadness of the river hides secrets and speaks in a deeper tongue coarse fish, familiar to me are replaced by those that anglers prize I am both lost and a little more alive 5. Looking into the faces of teenagers dressed for town centres, either striding ahead or shambling behind parents intent on extolling the virtues of fresh air and nature while feeling strangely out of breath at the climb closer in, the adolescent eyes show a plethora of emotion contempt, depression, longing utter conviction that life is happening somewhere, anywhere else but if I may offer some advice: relent as in a few blurred years you’ll succumb to the same fossilisation and will need some routes to remember

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Aug 25, 2021

Aug 25, 2021 at 1:50 PM UTC

drunkenkind

Another day trip: Up!

1. I’m climbing hills today in one, effete poet’s way they could be metaphors for all sorts of ‘big life things’ but in another, my belly is about to give my knees some trouble 2. The sepia on this one’s different there was sometimes bitterness in steps made here as the lure of the theme park rides sat so near but the years have done a lot to replace the roller coaster thrill with the heart weight of hills, dales and rivers with tales to tell 3. You remember I mentioned the metaphor? And the belly troubling the knees? Well these things came to pass as I hauled my carcass up the hill turning the air blue The metaphor? Decisions that once were natural, easy like breathing now can feel laboured, burdened when a step is placed how can I be sure the ground will hold? Even at the peak, where I once could exhale at the majesty of a job well done I’m now fraught with the thought of the journey down 4. This river is different at home the stream accompanies me on local walks, showing me the known and keeping my chin up Here, the bold broadness of the river hides secrets and speaks in a deeper tongue coarse fish, familiar to me are replaced by those that anglers prize I am both lost and a little more alive 5. Looking into the faces of teenagers dressed for town centres, either striding ahead or shambling behind parents intent on extolling the virtues of fresh air and nature while feeling strangely out of breath at the climb closer in, the adolescent eyes show a plethora of emotion contempt, depression, longing utter conviction that life is happening somewhere, anywhere else but if I may offer some advice: relent as in a few blurred years you’ll succumb to the same fossilisation and will need some routes to remember

62

inside the world wide poetry house dwells a fellow of many a name using trickery that's far from grouse we're no fools we're onto the game every piece resembling one type dwells a fellow of many a name why seek all the available hype it's because he's needful of glory every piece resembling one type an insignificance lies in his story hence the pens looking to be seen it's because he's needful of glory being noticed on the verse's screen by posting under counterfeit notes hence the pens looking to be seen we're familiar with his manifold votes by posting under counterfeit notes inside the world wide poetry house using trickery that's far from grouse

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Oct 12, 2017

Oct 12, 2017 at 8:03 AM UTC

ElizabethSquires

Far From Grouse (Terzanelle)

inside the world wide poetry house dwells a fellow of many a name using trickery that's far from grouse we're no fools we're onto the game every piece resembling one type dwells a fellow of many a name why seek all the available hype it's because he's needful of glory every piece resembling one type an insignificance lies in his story hence the pens looking to be seen it's because he's needful of glory being noticed on the verse's screen by posting under counterfeit notes hence the pens looking to be seen we're familiar with his manifold votes by posting under counterfeit notes inside the world wide poetry house using trickery that's far from grouse

19

made, can’t seem to get that grasp, of the continuity needed, the regular maintenance schedule good loving requires oh hell, part lazy, the origin of most of-my manifest manifold m a s c u l i n e mistakes, permitting a dario daily “i love you” to get rust covered by routinization, poor pronouns and missy pronunciation., forgetting that we us and ours are the foundational cornerstones of the best love theorems that were poetic uncovered in Ancient Persia, or were writ in sanskrit certainly borrowed by the Bard, and will this not be numbered in their midst gonna reread some Hafiz tonight when she asks what do you want to watch tonight, and maybe if I am feeling gracious I will reannoint myself a Reader as well as a writer of only love poetry meanwhile accept this scrap as a sacrificial offering, to be a burnt offering, consumed entirely after just one reading with luck I will be posting of flood conditions tonight a bio hazard to be relished or in the guy parlance oh yeah!

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Aug 5, 2024

Aug 5, 2024 at 3:11 PM UTC

onlylovepoetry

man-I-fold mistakes

made, can’t seem to get that grasp, of the continuity needed, the regular maintenance schedule good loving requires oh hell, part lazy, the origin of most of-my manifest manifold m a s c u l i n e mistakes, permitting a dario daily “i love you” to get rust covered by routinization, poor pronouns and missy pronunciation., forgetting that we us and ours are the foundational cornerstones of the best love theorems that were poetic uncovered in Ancient Persia, or were writ in sanskrit certainly borrowed by the Bard, and will this not be numbered in their midst gonna reread some Hafiz tonight when she asks what do you want to watch tonight, and maybe if I am feeling gracious I will reannoint myself a Reader as well as a writer of only love poetry meanwhile accept this scrap as a sacrificial offering, to be a burnt offering, consumed entirely after just one reading with luck I will be posting of flood conditions tonight a bio hazard to be relished or in the guy parlance oh yeah!

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