#quarantinepoem - Hello Poetry

My tongue sharpened today Angles fell off it like classroom fancies Rationalised to a point, its first act Was to knock out my fangs from behind. I stumbled about the house Slopped through the bathroom door And foamed at the toilet seat, a Wave broken over a rim of briny coral. My salt winked about the walls, around the tap, between the wiped tiles In the shower head of porous sponge The seaweed in the pipes crawled up And drowned me in the sickly sweet. Downstairs smelt the same, logically the sea dumped down Underwater fish glided past my window, all with the same Grim face against the mirrors, aping the ocean With me trapped inside. I turned on the same song, fifteen times, The sound tried to reach me with such ambition But it floated to the top, belly up in its bubbles Ridiculous, I scratched the date on the seafloor and entered the kitchen. Drips everywhere, grease stalactites, from the tiles, the yawning oven, the spatulas A Cretaceous museum where savagery is kept In little plastic boxes, with clear peelable lids A fresh, messy **** In the hall the grey light descends through slit windows Colour settling at the bottom like grit, all the greys so tall Give the narrow rectangle an aftertaste of dust Just one keeper before me It devours my key, hacking as it gobbles But it does not anticipate my twist I gut it from inside, it spits its meal back at me And I swing its limp, dead frame 90 degrees. Stepping out feels like a moonwalk, with Houston's neutral formulas Unheeded in my ear, finally I can greet the clouds, that probably escaped, Like me, fumes from the chimney Pale and fading away from lack of auspicious sun.

0

Nov 10, 2020

Nov 10, 2020 at 1:15 PM UTC

Porto-graffiti

Clouds

My tongue sharpened today Angles fell off it like classroom fancies Rationalised to a point, its first act Was to knock out my fangs from behind. I stumbled about the house Slopped through the bathroom door And foamed at the toilet seat, a Wave broken over a rim of briny coral. My salt winked about the walls, around the tap, between the wiped tiles In the shower head of porous sponge The seaweed in the pipes crawled up And drowned me in the sickly sweet. Downstairs smelt the same, logically the sea dumped down Underwater fish glided past my window, all with the same Grim face against the mirrors, aping the ocean With me trapped inside. I turned on the same song, fifteen times, The sound tried to reach me with such ambition But it floated to the top, belly up in its bubbles Ridiculous, I scratched the date on the seafloor and entered the kitchen. Drips everywhere, grease stalactites, from the tiles, the yawning oven, the spatulas A Cretaceous museum where savagery is kept In little plastic boxes, with clear peelable lids A fresh, messy **** In the hall the grey light descends through slit windows Colour settling at the bottom like grit, all the greys so tall Give the narrow rectangle an aftertaste of dust Just one keeper before me It devours my key, hacking as it gobbles But it does not anticipate my twist I gut it from inside, it spits its meal back at me And I swing its limp, dead frame 90 degrees. Stepping out feels like a moonwalk, with Houston's neutral formulas Unheeded in my ear, finally I can greet the clouds, that probably escaped, Like me, fumes from the chimney Pale and fading away from lack of auspicious sun.

36

Her heart was filled By anger and pain Her lips, wounded Pale and bleeding Screaming, crying Covered by cold shadows Nobody will see her She's in the dark

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Jul 7, 2020

Jul 7, 2020 at 3:26 AM UTC

DarkerLights

Nameless

Her heart was filled By anger and pain Her lips, wounded Pale and bleeding Screaming, crying Covered by cold shadows Nobody will see her She's in the dark

8

I watched the hostas grow as spring turned from the snow I know that time has passed but where did it go? does it stroll past each day, returning again and again or does it change in speed and move with the wind? each day feels long and dull and lonely but new leaves appear still, slowly I thought that I would grow during these days spent all alone. but the hostas are far ahead of me I'm glad I have more time to grow

0

Jun 7, 2020

Jun 7, 2020 at 6:16 PM UTC

ejb

hostas

I watched the hostas grow as spring turned from the snow I know that time has passed but where did it go? does it stroll past each day, returning again and again or does it change in speed and move with the wind? each day feels long and dull and lonely but new leaves appear still, slowly I thought that I would grow during these days spent all alone. but the hostas are far ahead of me I'm glad I have more time to grow

14

Words can make or break someone Don’t contribute to other people’s ordeal They may forgive what you said or did But never forget how you made them feel As physical bruises are easier to deal Emotional scars take forever to heal. Mindfully articulate the words you say Avoid your statements going astray Don’t let your mood dictate your words You’ll regret later if said absurd While commenting Be precise and kind Keep other person’s feelings in mind Keep sensitivity & compassion twined Better to talk once concept refined Words are encyclopaedia of thought Be mindful of the purpose sought While communicating, keep a subtle balance Speak if words are better than silence.

0

Apr 22, 2020

Apr 22, 2020 at 1:04 PM UTC

sara-nabeel

Words

Words can make or break someone Don’t contribute to other people’s ordeal They may forgive what you said or did But never forget how you made them feel As physical bruises are easier to deal Emotional scars take forever to heal. Mindfully articulate the words you say Avoid your statements going astray Don’t let your mood dictate your words You’ll regret later if said absurd While commenting Be precise and kind Keep other person’s feelings in mind Keep sensitivity & compassion twined Better to talk once concept refined Words are encyclopaedia of thought Be mindful of the purpose sought While communicating, keep a subtle balance Speak if words are better than silence.

18