#neophyte - Hello Poetry

Neophyte enthusiasm Petered out Flash floods

0

Nov 21, 2018

Nov 21, 2018 at 11:03 PM UTC

sarahnirmal

Run out of steam

Neophyte enthusiasm Petered out Flash floods

3

Warm up Listening to intuition Hands full Cast as a wallpaper Time traveler Witnessed the disgrace Can’t explain more Stereotype, eccentric? Towards a familiar face Being a neophyte With a marijuana life Switching gears into auto pilot Floated with no gravity Clarity, that makes no sense Unseen, unheard but close to heart A selection bias Let the Adrenaline rush Dream or nightmare? Claws sharper than Scalpel Waiting for a response “Yes” is the answer Proof of life Night with an open eyes. God’s mistake All come with an expiration date.

0

Feb 18, 2018

Feb 18, 2018 at 7:02 PM UTC

mystic-ink-plus

Proof of Life

Warm up Listening to intuition Hands full Cast as a wallpaper Time traveler Witnessed the disgrace Can’t explain more Stereotype, eccentric? Towards a familiar face Being a neophyte With a marijuana life Switching gears into auto pilot Floated with no gravity Clarity, that makes no sense Unseen, unheard but close to heart A selection bias Let the Adrenaline rush Dream or nightmare? Claws sharper than Scalpel Waiting for a response “Yes” is the answer Proof of life Night with an open eyes. God’s mistake All come with an expiration date.

25

Today, a poem should be palatable, cute As a Kiwi fruit, Dumb As a horse battalion's scudding run, Strident as out of tune horns Of basement bands where the gloss has grown— A poem should be bloodless As the slight of words. A poem should be film of ocean brine As the reel unwinds, Cleaving as the gear greases Spoke by spoke the light smearing breeze, Blowing, to the temple outhouse Exalting all the ****** functions— A poem should be not true: Equal too. For all the history of vanity An empty room and a bass relief For lust The keening masses and no light above the stream A poem should not be But mean.

0

May 14, 2015

May 14, 2015 at 11:20 PM UTC

ormond

Mars Poetica

Today, a poem should be palatable, cute As a Kiwi fruit, Dumb As a horse battalion's scudding run, Strident as out of tune horns Of basement bands where the gloss has grown— A poem should be bloodless As the slight of words. A poem should be film of ocean brine As the reel unwinds, Cleaving as the gear greases Spoke by spoke the light smearing breeze, Blowing, to the temple outhouse Exalting all the ****** functions— A poem should be not true: Equal too. For all the history of vanity An empty room and a bass relief For lust The keening masses and no light above the stream A poem should not be But mean.

22

I am always afraid on my first times Just like when I first stepped into your place When I first looked into your eyes When I first gazed into your face I told you I am afraid on my first times Just like when you first kissed my lips I saw a thousands of butterflies When you first put your hands into my hips I still have many fears for some first times Some things I would do someday First place, first act, and first impression You said in those times you're here to stay.

0

Apr 2, 2015

Apr 2, 2015 at 5:53 PM UTC

Marguerite

FIRST TIME

I am always afraid on my first times Just like when I first stepped into your place When I first looked into your eyes When I first gazed into your face I told you I am afraid on my first times Just like when you first kissed my lips I saw a thousands of butterflies When you first put your hands into my hips I still have many fears for some first times Some things I would do someday First place, first act, and first impression You said in those times you're here to stay.

12

*Because he's lazy Likes to throw symbols to say Wretched empty crap*

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Mar 29, 2015

Mar 29, 2015 at 11:10 PM UTC

ormond

Stone Monkey Writer

*Because he's lazy Likes to throw symbols to say Wretched empty crap*

3

Empty paper swaddles the wanting babes, Pages crying fill me with thoughts so clean And light comes down exposing low sages, Though soiled hands bleed virginal to deem. Paper casted with doubts on intrepid limbs, Bleak as the innocent page is scribed black, For all crowned hands have writ but whim, To this, their epitaphs reign what pages lack.

0

Dec 10, 2014

Dec 10, 2014 at 3:52 PM UTC

ormond

Paper & Pages

Empty paper swaddles the wanting babes, Pages crying fill me with thoughts so clean And light comes down exposing low sages, Though soiled hands bleed virginal to deem. Paper casted with doubts on intrepid limbs, Bleak as the innocent page is scribed black, For all crowned hands have writ but whim, To this, their epitaphs reign what pages lack.

8

. Empty paper swaddles the wanting babes, Pages crying fill me with thoughts so clean And light comes down exposing low sages, Though soiled hands bleed virginal to deem.

0

Dec 9, 2014

Dec 9, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC

ormond

Pages

. Empty paper swaddles the wanting babes, Pages crying fill me with thoughts so clean And light comes down exposing low sages, Though soiled hands bleed virginal to deem.

5

Today, a poem should be palatable, cute As a Kiwi fruit, Dumb As a horse battalion's scudding run, Strident as out of tune horns Of basement bands where the gloss has grown— A poem should be bloodless As the slight of words. A poem should be film of ocean brine As the reel unwinds, Cleaving as the gear greases Spoke by spoke the light smearing breeze, Blowing, to the temple outhouse Exalting all the ****** functions— A poem should be not true: Equal too. For all the history of vanity An empty room and a bass relief For lust The keening masses and no light above the stream A poem should not be But mean.

0

Nov 1, 2014

Nov 1, 2014 at 8:48 PM UTC

ormond

Mars Poetica

Today, a poem should be palatable, cute As a Kiwi fruit, Dumb As a horse battalion's scudding run, Strident as out of tune horns Of basement bands where the gloss has grown— A poem should be bloodless As the slight of words. A poem should be film of ocean brine As the reel unwinds, Cleaving as the gear greases Spoke by spoke the light smearing breeze, Blowing, to the temple outhouse Exalting all the ****** functions— A poem should be not true: Equal too. For all the history of vanity An empty room and a bass relief For lust The keening masses and no light above the stream A poem should not be But mean.

22