#quintet - Hello Poetry

Decomposing footwear leather is done for, Rotten leather: in an state of eternal rest. Shoes passed beyond the earthly pale for sure, Better before they were on Earth was the test. Send these shoes off to the grave I don’t jest.

0

Jan 3, 2025

Jan 3, 2025 at 9:42 PM UTC

runicLarry

Would you wear these ?

Decomposing footwear leather is done for, Rotten leather: in an state of eternal rest. Shoes passed beyond the earthly pale for sure, Better before they were on Earth was the test. Send these shoes off to the grave I don’t jest.

5

The animals are ***** and rutting The plants are tall and green pollen breezy, And mushrooms like tiny penis jetting The rolling Hills are pregnant not sleezy, The lakes are *** -I try not to be cheezy. The trees are ***** like a giant **** The trees ***** ready to gush -I state, The hills are round and smooth,hard like a rock The hills are pregnant with life,I dictate, The soil is ***** black with life I reinstate breezy .

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Dec 20, 2024

Dec 20, 2024 at 9:45 PM UTC

runicLarry

****** Landscape

The animals are ***** and rutting The plants are tall and green pollen breezy, And mushrooms like tiny penis jetting The rolling Hills are pregnant not sleezy, The lakes are *** -I try not to be cheezy. The trees are ***** like a giant **** The trees ***** ready to gush -I state, The hills are round and smooth,hard like a rock The hills are pregnant with life,I dictate, The soil is ***** black with life I reinstate breezy .

10

The runes are like the North Star they give insight They are like the wise ancient avatars , Always the prominence of the ages They are all so ancient like the stars, They are inscrutible and old like the night . They are like the wise ancient avatars ., Always the prominence of the ages , They are inscrutible and old like the night . They are like an arras of the sages, They are like the wise ancient avatars. Always the prominence of the ages They are inscrutible and old like the night They are like an arras of the sages, Like a bitter drug they can fill you with fright They are like the wise and ancient mages

0

Nov 20, 2024

Nov 20, 2024 at 9:32 PM UTC

runicLarry

Homage to the Rokatru Runes

The runes are like the North Star they give insight They are like the wise ancient avatars , Always the prominence of the ages They are all so ancient like the stars, They are inscrutible and old like the night . They are like the wise ancient avatars ., Always the prominence of the ages , They are inscrutible and old like the night . They are like an arras of the sages, They are like the wise ancient avatars. Always the prominence of the ages They are inscrutible and old like the night They are like an arras of the sages, Like a bitter drug they can fill you with fright They are like the wise and ancient mages

16

The runes are like the North Star they give insight- that's right They are like ancient avatars . Always The rock of ages They are old like the stars. They are ancient like the night They are like ancient avatars Always The rock of ages . They are ancient like the night The runic teaching of the ages is like a tapestry woven from the teaching of the sages. They are like ancient avatars.

0

Nov 20, 2024

Nov 20, 2024 at 8:57 PM UTC

runicLarry

The Runes

The runes are like the North Star they give insight- that's right They are like ancient avatars . Always The rock of ages They are old like the stars. They are ancient like the night They are like ancient avatars Always The rock of ages . They are ancient like the night The runic teaching of the ages is like a tapestry woven from the teaching of the sages. They are like ancient avatars.

10

His lover has the saddest eyes A misty grey under a heavy blue And he’ll see her again at sunrise. Their love some seem to despise Thinking of it as a ****** taboo His lover has the saddest eyes Though no one seems to empathize No one’s aware of their little rendezvous And he’ll see her again at sunrise. He knows she’ll be hidden under a clever disguise But he won’t confuse her with just another heart’s statue His lover has the saddest eyes. You couldn't convince him of your lies Of his leman his desire you could not subdue And he’ll see her again at sunrise. Love her until their hellos become goodbyes From the moment he’d set eyes on her to his final adieu His lover has the saddest eyes And see her again at sunrise

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Apr 6, 2021

Apr 6, 2021 at 2:36 AM UTC

Theanm

The Unloved 8th Grade "Quintet"

His lover has the saddest eyes A misty grey under a heavy blue And he’ll see her again at sunrise. Their love some seem to despise Thinking of it as a ****** taboo His lover has the saddest eyes Though no one seems to empathize No one’s aware of their little rendezvous And he’ll see her again at sunrise. He knows she’ll be hidden under a clever disguise But he won’t confuse her with just another heart’s statue His lover has the saddest eyes. You couldn't convince him of your lies Of his leman his desire you could not subdue And he’ll see her again at sunrise. Love her until their hellos become goodbyes From the moment he’d set eyes on her to his final adieu His lover has the saddest eyes And see her again at sunrise

19

Tired eyes carried the bags that sank Descending on ones features, All heavy and rounded, Two moons once full became born Anew.

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Apr 29, 2019

Apr 29, 2019 at 8:43 PM UTC

roppongidreams

Lady.

Tired eyes carried the bags that sank Descending on ones features, All heavy and rounded, Two moons once full became born Anew.

5

millions of tears when the shadows flood then humans were gift the light of hope so self immersed the human became all that was taught dispersed like smoke now millions of tears mix ash and blood

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Apr 17, 2019

Apr 17, 2019 at 1:26 PM UTC

james-study

Millions Of Tears

millions of tears when the shadows flood then humans were gift the light of hope so self immersed the human became all that was taught dispersed like smoke now millions of tears mix ash and blood

5

Words hold time in a book embrace Only the wind now turn the pages The power of words lay silent the world Now sun and stars left of the ages And the book will hold time in place

0

Aug 22, 2018

Aug 22, 2018 at 9:58 AM UTC

james-study

Last Page

Words hold time in a book embrace Only the wind now turn the pages The power of words lay silent the world Now sun and stars left of the ages And the book will hold time in place

5

Hak'tan başka yok baki - Bu gün ki zaman yeni, Ve dün ki zaman eski. Göremem yavaş etki, Öyle geçer zaman ki. Çok yavaş büyür fidan, Geçersin karşısından, Kalır öyle her zaman - Baktın oldu gülistan! Öyle geçer zaman ki.

0

Jan 21, 2017

Jan 21, 2017 at 7:29 PM UTC

gihon

Oyle Geçer Zaman Ki

Hak'tan başka yok baki - Bu gün ki zaman yeni, Ve dün ki zaman eski. Göremem yavaş etki, Öyle geçer zaman ki. Çok yavaş büyür fidan, Geçersin karşısından, Kalır öyle her zaman - Baktın oldu gülistan! Öyle geçer zaman ki.

10

I want to fold up Constantinople And tuck it in the crease of my pocket With a rock and a harlequin opal, Nestled against your map of Nantucket — A keepsake framed by a tired locket. Sunlight pours past panes like gold tapestries, Blue-sky-checkmates belonging to Vermeer And his Woman with a Balance — trophies: A man crowned a chivalrous cavalier, A gentleman of this tremendous sphere Misunderstood by societal norms, And expectations set by precedent. All while a bird coos cucurucu, warmed By yellow light, freed from discontented Murmurs with song. I want to read segments Of the map on the curved back of your hand, Knuckle-mounds like the knees of a woman You once said you loved between shorthanded Compliments and the words of Walt Whitman — Blanketed by a bible and a man. Maybe our web-tangled thoughts coexist With the sky, place our feet firm on the ground. Or maybe they’re a window that insists On temptations, the mind, rewritten sounds, Coming alive, and wanting to be found.

0

Apr 4, 2015

Apr 4, 2015 at 10:52 PM UTC

emily-schumann

The Philosopher and the Window

I want to fold up Constantinople And tuck it in the crease of my pocket With a rock and a harlequin opal, Nestled against your map of Nantucket — A keepsake framed by a tired locket. Sunlight pours past panes like gold tapestries, Blue-sky-checkmates belonging to Vermeer And his Woman with a Balance — trophies: A man crowned a chivalrous cavalier, A gentleman of this tremendous sphere Misunderstood by societal norms, And expectations set by precedent. All while a bird coos cucurucu, warmed By yellow light, freed from discontented Murmurs with song. I want to read segments Of the map on the curved back of your hand, Knuckle-mounds like the knees of a woman You once said you loved between shorthanded Compliments and the words of Walt Whitman — Blanketed by a bible and a man. Maybe our web-tangled thoughts coexist With the sky, place our feet firm on the ground. Or maybe they’re a window that insists On temptations, the mind, rewritten sounds, Coming alive, and wanting to be found.

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