Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
#spacemen
There she stands, An angel with broken hands, An angel with stones for wings, She sings the sun away And spins timorous sky ashade Of wonder, thunder row'n’ down Her body, she sang of me As I died asleep Another night, my eyes too worn to cry, Too alone for an expression of lonliness      To bare any meaning. The sapphire trail Skylark doled to drain The riverrun grass of        Substance built. Lifted in hypoxic transcendence Glistening with light, ****** gold, Skin to lilt, and touch to felt And dawn rotted unto morning With one less life having made it.
0
Aug 26, 2019
Aug 26, 2019 at 2:21 AM UTC
Metaphysical exit
First you tickle ups And then you tickle downs Just when you think you've had enough Why then you tickle rounds and rounds! The space suit's hard and thick and rough. Through it you cannot scratches! You cannot usher out an itch by opening up the 'atches! You jump and bump. You itch and twitch. You make a thousand wishes! The perils of Deep Outer Space Are nothing ... When you itches!
0
Jan 8
Jan 8, 2026 at 8:21 PM UTC
LAMENT OF THE ITCHY ASTRONAUT