#terrarium - Hello Poetry

i saw a breeze in my terrarium a gentle sweeping of the peace, i wonder if the trees can feel the breeze flowing through their leaves?

0

Dec 1, 2020

Dec 1, 2020 at 1:11 AM UTC

iprommy

terrariums

i saw a breeze in my terrarium a gentle sweeping of the peace, i wonder if the trees can feel the breeze flowing through their leaves?

4

#The quill's sodden ink evaporates while this bell jar encapsulates leaving these dreary words to permeate only to rain back down and stagnate this terrarium, my lonely estate pickling eyes that spate people peer through the glass only to deprecate while I slowly start to acclimate two horizons squint until light dissipates allowing the darkness to overtake monsters crawl out to dilapidate snarls and growls devastate this is fate this is fate this is fate this is fate is it too late is it too late is it too late is it too late echos verberate echos verberate echos verberate echos verberate this is fate and it is too late these echos verberate and I ruminate I ruminate and ruminate and ruminate and ruminate with a languid gait a countenance set straight while I desperately try to create a happy blissful sunny green free state it's not too late it's not too late it's not too late meditate meditate meditate meditate don't let the glass alienate pick up the hammer and swing till the glass ***B E K R A S.***#

0

Oct 1, 2018

Oct 1, 2018 at 10:09 AM UTC

EvilShredder

Pickling

#The quill's sodden ink evaporates while this bell jar encapsulates leaving these dreary words to permeate only to rain back down and stagnate this terrarium, my lonely estate pickling eyes that spate people peer through the glass only to deprecate while I slowly start to acclimate two horizons squint until light dissipates allowing the darkness to overtake monsters crawl out to dilapidate snarls and growls devastate this is fate this is fate this is fate this is fate is it too late is it too late is it too late is it too late echos verberate echos verberate echos verberate echos verberate this is fate and it is too late these echos verberate and I ruminate I ruminate and ruminate and ruminate and ruminate with a languid gait a countenance set straight while I desperately try to create a happy blissful sunny green free state it's not too late it's not too late it's not too late meditate meditate meditate meditate don't let the glass alienate pick up the hammer and swing till the glass ***B E K R A S.***#

27

Enter the greenhouse. I love it here. From the gritty soil to the abundant moisture. Yet my palms are sweaty, my green thumb is sore. Classical music is to growing, as is a kid to a toy store. For once, a life-size terrarium holds me, instead of ants who see grass as the trees. Constrained, but so free. This world remains a prison, but it contains both you and me.

0

Jul 18, 2016

Jul 18, 2016 at 8:18 PM UTC

tranquil-eyes

Untitled

Enter the greenhouse. I love it here. From the gritty soil to the abundant moisture. Yet my palms are sweaty, my green thumb is sore. Classical music is to growing, as is a kid to a toy store. For once, a life-size terrarium holds me, instead of ants who see grass as the trees. Constrained, but so free. This world remains a prison, but it contains both you and me.

11

Terror-rium We had an aquarium A river, a lake, a sea. On our desk—the ocean. Our exotic fish, fished from the very river, lake, or sea which we have now. On our desk—we provide forage, food, plants, water, and fish. The aquarium had us. … We had an insectarium An arachnid, an insect, a butter -fly. On our counter—the air. Our countertop full of flourishing flowers, fluttering wings of broken butterflies, falling from feed, because they drink—and we pluck their wings, tape them to tapestries to stare. Say, how pretty they are. The insectarium had us … We had a terrarium. A desert, a savannah, a floor of sand. Our room is lit by a woodland, a jungle, a place we’ve never been. African violets decorate our reptiles, all scales and shells and condensation. It rains today—the lid which collected our precipitation. Our pebbled floor, formed over our marbled kitchen. The terrarium had us … We had an arium, and we destroyed it to keep them on our desks, nuzzled between family portraits and pens, to remind ourselves of what We used to have and what we’ll never have again, but at least they are pretty, and no one needs National Geographic to stare anymore. We have our countertops. ... This was read at the University of Kansas on May 10, 2013: http://shannonathompson.com/2013/05/10/contest-winners-and-poetry-from-my-ku-reading/

0

Oct 26, 2014

Oct 26, 2014 at 6:43 PM UTC

shannon-a-thompson

Terror-rium

Terror-rium We had an aquarium A river, a lake, a sea. On our desk—the ocean. Our exotic fish, fished from the very river, lake, or sea which we have now. On our desk—we provide forage, food, plants, water, and fish. The aquarium had us. … We had an insectarium An arachnid, an insect, a butter -fly. On our counter—the air. Our countertop full of flourishing flowers, fluttering wings of broken butterflies, falling from feed, because they drink—and we pluck their wings, tape them to tapestries to stare. Say, how pretty they are. The insectarium had us … We had a terrarium. A desert, a savannah, a floor of sand. Our room is lit by a woodland, a jungle, a place we’ve never been. African violets decorate our reptiles, all scales and shells and condensation. It rains today—the lid which collected our precipitation. Our pebbled floor, formed over our marbled kitchen. The terrarium had us … We had an arium, and we destroyed it to keep them on our desks, nuzzled between family portraits and pens, to remind ourselves of what We used to have and what we’ll never have again, but at least they are pretty, and no one needs National Geographic to stare anymore. We have our countertops. ... This was read at the University of Kansas on May 10, 2013: http://shannonathompson.com/2013/05/10/contest-winners-and-poetry-from-my-ku-reading/

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