#tangible
And I have severed the bridge,
The bond of the astral soul
To this corporeal form.
Similarly feeling, so far
From all that is tangible.
What I am, I don't know
And the point, in the grand scheme.
A stream of air, a speck of dust
Tiny particles without any meaning
Jun 20, 2023
Jun 20, 2023 at 4:56 PM UTC
I wonder how old your smile,
how far your hemisphere:
fringes of your admired shape,
traces of your desired smell.
Might they reveal what clouds know.
Perhaps measure a held glance,
the flowers in your hair.
Perhaps discover
a here without a where.
Jun 15, 2022
Jun 15, 2022 at 12:53 PM UTC
I hate this
absolutely hate this
how do I
embrace this?
what's there to
hold
in my mind and
in my hands
I want to
want
hope
but I can’t
seem to grasp it
I'm waiting
for the day
to come
what can I do
with
what I have?
Aug 11, 2020
Aug 11, 2020 at 2:33 AM UTC
I sit with my feet dangling into a circle
whose edge I rest on
as if it were a window sill.
From here the earth looks ancient.
It’s pull mothered by the curvature
of spacetime.
The spring blossoms curving
when they fall.
Our fate floating out there: intangible–
outside this circle where my toes abide
Our fate floating in us: tangible–
The place in which my torso resides
The debate seems fresh unlike the sagely soil. My limbs alive –life giving life– emerging like the pistil from a bellflower
unconcerned with philosophy.
Mar 30, 2020
Mar 30, 2020 at 4:07 PM UTC
Confession
by Michael R. Burch
What shall I say to you, to confess,
words? Words that can never express
anything close to what I feel?
For words that seem tangible, real,
when I think them
become vaguely surreal when I put ink to them.
And words that I thought that I knew,
like "love" and "devotion"
never ring true.
While "passion"
sounds strangely like the latest fashion
or a perfume.
NOTE: At the time I wrote this poem, a perfume called Passion was in fashion. Keywords/Tags: confession, confess, words, tangible, real, surreal, feelings, love, devotion, passion, perfume, fashion, false advertising, hype
Apr 2, 2020
Apr 2, 2020 at 11:26 PM UTC
the brain is a filter
severing unhelpful connections
we try to hold the smoke
of rapidly fading memories
yet it passes through our fingertips.
since we worry about what we lack
the loss of memories may create a void
yet that same void can hold
new, tangible memories
ones that help us grow.
Apr 2, 2020
Apr 2, 2020 at 11:03 AM UTC
A plea to Phi
Gold hidden in plain sight
Her lips don't lie as
a primal force will rise
Tangible symmetry of course
where lessons in ratio apply
All is in sync in my mind
Feb 6, 2020
Feb 6, 2020 at 10:02 AM UTC
then...
was intangible
less than a spirit
its voice inaudible
color exited life.
now...
is truly tangible
a spirit with a bright aura
its voice so enticing and loud
that color is entering life again.
Jan 26, 2020
Jan 26, 2020 at 11:49 PM UTC
A love like this isn't a love to miss
I visit my memories of happiness
Of Bliss
In my head
Painted fiction drowns out my vision.
The realization that ...
This isn't Love
Attachment at best
I fear
I fear
my dear , our love is but a game .. a shame
We hurt each other to feel love we create to blind our pain..
Dec 9, 2019
Dec 9, 2019 at 9:23 PM UTC
The centre of me aches.
My circle is full,
There's no space for you
But yet you push
Encroaching on my depths.
Tangible.
Languishing.
The need for warm drinks on chilly nights.
The arm on a shoulder after a weep.
The ache from a belly laugh so hard you cried.
A space I didn’t know needed filling.
I’ve lost you before I had you.
You’re not mine to keep.
The centre of me aches.
My circle is full,
And yet you’re there,
pushing.
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 8:33 AM UTC
cat-eyed passion
lurking in the tall grass
all ears for years
but I knew...
Caught a whiff
early on
and she still stayed hidden
teasing and teasing
looking for the right time
such alien patience
and dedication
equal only to madness
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 7:59 AM UTC
I felt my life
It flashed before my eyes
I felt it slip away
Like it was a tangible thing
Something that sprints and runs and flees
But it’s okay
But it’s okay now
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 10:08 PM UTC
Why must we crave and long for love when we do not have it,
Only to waste and abuse it when it's in our unworthy grasp?
We search and tear the world apart for a great love
Yet we take love for granted when it is finally tangible
It's a cycle of tears
Too hard to give up
Too painful to repeat
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 1:28 AM UTC
I live in a world of vapors,
Nothing is tangible,
No thing can be grasped.
I grabbed you and you me,
Hand in hand we went together through the steam,
The air,
The gas that is this world.
We let go and couldn't find each other again,
Our bodies could,
But in the world of vapors that wasn't enough,
I was your liebe,
Someone else is now.
You refused to live in this intangible world,
I couldn't follow you to the world of money,
Credit cards,
Trips in my car,
I don't have a car.
I remain alone in this unclear world,
Trying to kidnap someone,
Destined to always be
Nothing more than a ghost.
Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 11:29 PM UTC
Although on page two hundred and twenty
it must come to end,
for two hundred and nineteen and a half pages,
I found on this tree-pâté
(I don't know where ink comes from)
a friend.
Patrick for all his lonely sorrows
has taken me, sat me down in a blanket, and hidden me from the real world.
From touchable, grabbable joy
From the cold touch of a dead memory
From the contorted warmth of a lover about to take a journey.
From the satisfaction of a day job
From the numbing repetition of a day job
From anything tangible I hide,
and while away awhile.
Reading.
Page to page different circumstantial photographs,
beautifully, hauntingly captured, some of them,
all in his warm tongue and keen hand.
I wonder if I know these things he speaks of.
I am so close to them
I can see them
I'm in my blanket
My tongue in my mouth
My hands on his pages
My ears greedily lapping up his nutrition (too quickly to taste)
and my mouth is dry.
Not a callous touches my skin.
Not a memory picks up a pencil.
Not a lover contorts my limbs, my neck, ruffles my hair.
I can ruin my own hair.
I can stand up and see through my eyes as well as his
I might feel tangible
And I'll write a poem about it
Sep 20, 2017
Sep 20, 2017 at 5:17 PM UTC
It has honestly been a while since I've ventured this deeply into the inner recesses of my jumbled mind.
Reason being that I have become ****** into the popular misconception that only grand ideas and realizations deserve note worthiness.
However, what always seems to escape our recollection is the grace that often lies within simplicity.
Take happiness for example; I've always wondered what happiness would look like if we were to bestow upon it a physical form.
The Shape of happiness might resemble glass...Simplicity in plain sight
Though you don't usually notice it, it's still definitely there...
You merely have to change your Point of view slightly and that glass will sparkle when it reflects the light.
I doubt that anything could argue its own existence more eloquently...
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 2:05 PM UTC
We need more pens
Why do we need more pens?
Because with these pens
We will write cool things
We can write poems:
Poem: Not Tangible
Space can't be ****** with
What is tangible
Humans are tangible
We can touch,
We can take
We don't need; we want
We want because we are
attached to the touchable beings
Being is hard; letting things be is hard
Being me means free
Free me
Please let me be
I don't feel tangible.
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 12:33 AM UTC
tangible but not,
this was how I painted him
that I may see him everyday.
As realistic as I could,
soon I saw him stare back at me.
But then I realized:
even if his face was so close to mine,
his eyes were distant, a gaze so lost.
Even if my hands grazed over his,
our fingers wouldn't entwine, a touch so cold.
I was this close to having him by my side,
but he was still so far away.
You were realistic,
but you weren't real.
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 7:20 AM UTC
In our minds, over time
and experience, we
plant an idea of the one
we want to love forever.
You picture them to be
everything that could
collide with your life soul
perfectly.
That's why when you
meet your soulmate,
it's a form of recognition,
instead of question. A reality
from an idea.
We already knew before we knew,
that's why they say "When you know,
you just know."
-irasol.losari
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 4:14 PM UTC