#tremor - Hello Poetry

My body jitters like a cage full of trapped sparrows. My bones vibrate with a thin metallic ringing, as if someone struck my skeleton like a bell and forgot to stop the echo. My heart is not just beating, it is everywhere, ricocheting through my wrists, my knees, my teeth, a frantic percussion stitched into marrow. I do not know what happened. One moment the world was steady glass, the next it warped like heat above asphalt. I zoned out and when I came back the room had grown strange, tilted slightly, like gravity had been tampered with. It has been hours. The clock crawls, stubborn and slow, but my body refuses to settle. The air feels electric, prickling against my skin like invisible static. I lie in the dark with my eyes open, watching the ceiling ripple into unfamiliar shapes. Sleep stands somewhere distant and unreachable, a pale animal at the edge of a frozen lake, watching but never approaching. It is three in the morning and the night feels enormous. My nerves spark like frayed wires. Frustration burns under my ribs, a hot coal that refuses to dim. Anger coils through my chest like a storm serpent searching for a place to strike. Confusion spreads through my mind like spilled ink, blotting everything into strange, indistinct shapes. My thoughts race in circles, frantic comets trapped in orbit. I want to scream. I want to tear the silence open and let something out of me, something loud and violent and bright. My body feels like it might burst into a thousand startled birds. But nothing happens. The room stays quiet. The night stays still. And I sit here trembling, a vessel filled with too much thunder.

0

Mar 7

Mar 7, 2026 at 3:32 AM UTC

poetriesgrave

Fever in My Bones

My body jitters like a cage full of trapped sparrows. My bones vibrate with a thin metallic ringing, as if someone struck my skeleton like a bell and forgot to stop the echo. My heart is not just beating, it is everywhere, ricocheting through my wrists, my knees, my teeth, a frantic percussion stitched into marrow. I do not know what happened. One moment the world was steady glass, the next it warped like heat above asphalt. I zoned out and when I came back the room had grown strange, tilted slightly, like gravity had been tampered with. It has been hours. The clock crawls, stubborn and slow, but my body refuses to settle. The air feels electric, prickling against my skin like invisible static. I lie in the dark with my eyes open, watching the ceiling ripple into unfamiliar shapes. Sleep stands somewhere distant and unreachable, a pale animal at the edge of a frozen lake, watching but never approaching. It is three in the morning and the night feels enormous. My nerves spark like frayed wires. Frustration burns under my ribs, a hot coal that refuses to dim. Anger coils through my chest like a storm serpent searching for a place to strike. Confusion spreads through my mind like spilled ink, blotting everything into strange, indistinct shapes. My thoughts race in circles, frantic comets trapped in orbit. I want to scream. I want to tear the silence open and let something out of me, something loud and violent and bright. My body feels like it might burst into a thousand startled birds. But nothing happens. The room stays quiet. The night stays still. And I sit here trembling, a vessel filled with too much thunder.

7

upon reading your poem Tremor^ and this what I think: when reading your seamless writing connecting of moments of immortality, only one question remains, why, does our own writing not approach the level of your exquisite precision soul's *********** is it our own immorality that permits our soon-to-be- discontinued pretenses, wherein, whereby, we can still believe our own words should be deservedly disowned, disinherited to the scrap heap heated, burned, eradicated and why do we even try? sigh >.< dare not read it twice, lest my inked fingertips surrender to my indecent indecision

0

Sep 26, 2025

Sep 26, 2025 at 5:19 AM UTC

onlylovepoetry

Agnes de Lod: this! then, be THE tremor I ken

upon reading your poem Tremor^ and this what I think: when reading your seamless writing connecting of moments of immortality, only one question remains, why, does our own writing not approach the level of your exquisite precision soul's *********** is it our own immorality that permits our soon-to-be- discontinued pretenses, wherein, whereby, we can still believe our own words should be deservedly disowned, disinherited to the scrap heap heated, burned, eradicated and why do we even try? sigh >.< dare not read it twice, lest my inked fingertips surrender to my indecent indecision

29

Today again I saw a gate in the sky. Streams of pale light trickled through it. I no longer looked at the sun, only straight ahead, My silhouette reflected in the ***** tram window. I looked farther, hypnotized, sipping words veiled in the dust of the autumn sun. Dry spaces. Leaves. Golden bile sparkled, And no one saw this wonder in the sky. At the stop, in the crowd rushing by, An experiment took place: A man wrapped in copper threads. He searched for relief while anger bound his soul. He fought the air, attacked with words, Like a puppet moving in convulsions. Hands clenched, anger in his eyes. “This will pass, this will fade,” I thought, Moving to another car. A primal tremor. A change of frequency. Someone is turning the **** of our universe. How many more cells of the body will they spoil Before it is ground to ashes? Until all ends in colonization, A reward for micro-souls from another world. People sunk in their minds do not hear the hum of strings. And I plead in my thoughts: listen, look, be your reality. Behind the gate a hundred weeks ago, a crackling gramophone plays. My calm relieves someone’s thoughts. Somewhere, thousands of hours ago, the past becomes the future. Next time when you pass by me, indifferent, the warmth of my thought will warm your Dry, wrinkled hands. I will never know You, and I would like to know what you will say when these trembling words arrive on the wind. In the autumn glow of the setting sun, Like a gentle brushing of leaves at the next opening of the gate. I will be there in the crack like a stray thought that wanted to become immortality.

0

Sep 25, 2025

Sep 25, 2025 at 5:59 PM UTC

Agnes-de-Lodz

Tremor

Today again I saw a gate in the sky. Streams of pale light trickled through it. I no longer looked at the sun, only straight ahead, My silhouette reflected in the ***** tram window. I looked farther, hypnotized, sipping words veiled in the dust of the autumn sun. Dry spaces. Leaves. Golden bile sparkled, And no one saw this wonder in the sky. At the stop, in the crowd rushing by, An experiment took place: A man wrapped in copper threads. He searched for relief while anger bound his soul. He fought the air, attacked with words, Like a puppet moving in convulsions. Hands clenched, anger in his eyes. “This will pass, this will fade,” I thought, Moving to another car. A primal tremor. A change of frequency. Someone is turning the **** of our universe. How many more cells of the body will they spoil Before it is ground to ashes? Until all ends in colonization, A reward for micro-souls from another world. People sunk in their minds do not hear the hum of strings. And I plead in my thoughts: listen, look, be your reality. Behind the gate a hundred weeks ago, a crackling gramophone plays. My calm relieves someone’s thoughts. Somewhere, thousands of hours ago, the past becomes the future. Next time when you pass by me, indifferent, the warmth of my thought will warm your Dry, wrinkled hands. I will never know You, and I would like to know what you will say when these trembling words arrive on the wind. In the autumn glow of the setting sun, Like a gentle brushing of leaves at the next opening of the gate. I will be there in the crack like a stray thought that wanted to become immortality.

42

What’s a lil turbulence, I came out of a shell shock

0

Jun 1, 2025

Jun 1, 2025 at 2:36 PM UTC

izzyvii-hunnid

Titled: Tremor

What’s a lil turbulence, I came out of a shell shock

2

Signs say stress. I say the End of the World. A mental break Or a fractured world. The walls of my mind tremor The world falls apart at the fringe. Acute stress, prolonged stress. Acute suffering, prolonged suffering. Good lord, its the end. Oh God, the end of times. I see hints, hidden in plain sight. This diseased world, is apocalypse bound. Yet they'll say I'm not mentally sound. But the world dangles on a string.

0

May 2, 2018

May 2, 2018 at 5:50 PM UTC

devin-ortiz

Tremors on my Mind

Signs say stress. I say the End of the World. A mental break Or a fractured world. The walls of my mind tremor The world falls apart at the fringe. Acute stress, prolonged stress. Acute suffering, prolonged suffering. Good lord, its the end. Oh God, the end of times. I see hints, hidden in plain sight. This diseased world, is apocalypse bound. Yet they'll say I'm not mentally sound. But the world dangles on a string.

14

There is a light, it's flickering a pale white blue. The carpet is rough on my face, silence permeates the house. I should get up. I should pull myself into personhood. My hands tremor, I let my finger tips find the end of the carpet. Skimming the floor boards shaking fingers beginning to tap tap tap out the only sound. I used to drink the restlessness away, now I am left a craving in its place. Tap tap tap say the fingers. Violent imagery flashes across my mind, car crashes, rending metal, glass breaking, bones snapping there are sharp falls and hit and runs and stabbing on the sidewalk, knife sliding into my flesh. Leaping into oncoming traffic, my heart skipping beats and laughter always my laughter. The final moment of freedom replayed over an over. I can't tell you why it makes me smile, I don't know why myself. Tap tap tap tap tap irrattic finger tips might be getting angry. Have your limbs been angry at you before? Rolling over the popcorn ceiling swirls, I realized a while back if I pay attention to the patterns they shift, I hallucinate mildly on most days. I think I might miss it if I were being honest. I focus on my skin, the way the air touches it, the way cold feels, if I savour this enough I almost feel high, high is almost always on the other side of sensation. I might always be a touch high compared to how the average Joe feels. This is not a desirable state, but if you talk to me tomorrow I might say it's a gift. I slowly stand, my knees cracking fingertips tap tap tapping up the wall. Giving up drinking was like giving up one of my last connections to my dearly departed. Gin and alcoholism kept a part of him close to me. Medication and therapy take me further and further away from the person who knew him. I walk barefoot, the texture of the floor boards underfoot, stepping into the kitchen I pull a wine glass from the cupboard. I want to hear it sing, I flick the glass, I hold the opening of the glass near my ear. I can feel the sound touching my ear. Soft ringing until it's quiet again, I've tried to savour the experience by listening in to the sounds of my world. Listening to the slow crunch of a crisp apple, the sound of the city, the bubbling of the fish tank. Perfect beautiful sounds ripe with happening. You can hear the happening of what is at all times if you choose to. There are other ways to savour, I think it helps to be here and now, the savouring it I mean. By "it" I mean everything your senses allow you to perceive, the everything that is your sensory image of the world around you. Your brain built the image of the world, it's a reflection of you. The world is a mirror to your mind. Often the reflection is not something I'm proud of, other times I'm exploding with pride. I wish I could share what I've found with him, but I wasn't fast enough, I wasn't paying attention. Attention to here and now has been the key I keep dropping and picking up.

0

Mar 9, 2018

Mar 9, 2018 at 8:51 PM UTC

kathleen-m-1

The experience

There is a light, it's flickering a pale white blue. The carpet is rough on my face, silence permeates the house. I should get up. I should pull myself into personhood. My hands tremor, I let my finger tips find the end of the carpet. Skimming the floor boards shaking fingers beginning to tap tap tap out the only sound. I used to drink the restlessness away, now I am left a craving in its place. Tap tap tap say the fingers. Violent imagery flashes across my mind, car crashes, rending metal, glass breaking, bones snapping there are sharp falls and hit and runs and stabbing on the sidewalk, knife sliding into my flesh. Leaping into oncoming traffic, my heart skipping beats and laughter always my laughter. The final moment of freedom replayed over an over. I can't tell you why it makes me smile, I don't know why myself. Tap tap tap tap tap irrattic finger tips might be getting angry. Have your limbs been angry at you before? Rolling over the popcorn ceiling swirls, I realized a while back if I pay attention to the patterns they shift, I hallucinate mildly on most days. I think I might miss it if I were being honest. I focus on my skin, the way the air touches it, the way cold feels, if I savour this enough I almost feel high, high is almost always on the other side of sensation. I might always be a touch high compared to how the average Joe feels. This is not a desirable state, but if you talk to me tomorrow I might say it's a gift. I slowly stand, my knees cracking fingertips tap tap tapping up the wall. Giving up drinking was like giving up one of my last connections to my dearly departed. Gin and alcoholism kept a part of him close to me. Medication and therapy take me further and further away from the person who knew him. I walk barefoot, the texture of the floor boards underfoot, stepping into the kitchen I pull a wine glass from the cupboard. I want to hear it sing, I flick the glass, I hold the opening of the glass near my ear. I can feel the sound touching my ear. Soft ringing until it's quiet again, I've tried to savour the experience by listening in to the sounds of my world. Listening to the slow crunch of a crisp apple, the sound of the city, the bubbling of the fish tank. Perfect beautiful sounds ripe with happening. You can hear the happening of what is at all times if you choose to. There are other ways to savour, I think it helps to be here and now, the savouring it I mean. By "it" I mean everything your senses allow you to perceive, the everything that is your sensory image of the world around you. Your brain built the image of the world, it's a reflection of you. The world is a mirror to your mind. Often the reflection is not something I'm proud of, other times I'm exploding with pride. I wish I could share what I've found with him, but I wasn't fast enough, I wasn't paying attention. Attention to here and now has been the key I keep dropping and picking up.

17

atop the apex is a most precarious point to be stationed the slightest tremor can topple down the tip's vantage engineers know this yet some will insist on being seated trickily there clinging to the edge like inane humpty dumpty setting himself well up for an inglorious fall

0

Feb 16, 2018

Feb 16, 2018 at 11:28 PM UTC

ElizabethSquires

Inane Humpty Dumpty (Haiku Style)

atop the apex is a most precarious point to be stationed the slightest tremor can topple down the tip's vantage engineers know this yet some will insist on being seated trickily there clinging to the edge like inane humpty dumpty setting himself well up for an inglorious fall

12

A reminiscence of a kiss A paradox of loneliness Addictive vased solitude Unscrewed from the walls I drown in ecstacy To deck on your shores As the strong wind fades I hold the strong anchor Plucking the unknown Compressed in reality Pressing the known Caressing the phone To nip, heaped dips Sinking down depths The broadcast of us Where earthquakes traps Rub my soreness Deflate the reforms Unroll the society Your tremor, my tenor I extend my arm Afar to your side Hold my embrace Feel my want, my all

0

Mar 11, 2016

Mar 11, 2016 at 2:17 PM UTC

SassyJ

Tremors and Tenors

A reminiscence of a kiss A paradox of loneliness Addictive vased solitude Unscrewed from the walls I drown in ecstacy To deck on your shores As the strong wind fades I hold the strong anchor Plucking the unknown Compressed in reality Pressing the known Caressing the phone To nip, heaped dips Sinking down depths The broadcast of us Where earthquakes traps Rub my soreness Deflate the reforms Unroll the society Your tremor, my tenor I extend my arm Afar to your side Hold my embrace Feel my want, my all

24

Feel the tremor… …The flicker… The static charge Of bliss Whisper HER sweet Breath through Your Being. No time to stop, No time to be waylaid By Fears’ tearful face. Kiss this moment awake Caress it’s cheek, Open your eyes To the Beauty beating In your trembling breast.

0

May 17, 2015

May 17, 2015 at 6:47 AM UTC

kamini-1

Trembling Beauty

Feel the tremor… …The flicker… The static charge Of bliss Whisper HER sweet Breath through Your Being. No time to stop, No time to be waylaid By Fears’ tearful face. Kiss this moment awake Caress it’s cheek, Open your eyes To the Beauty beating In your trembling breast.

15

And I was falling, So fast Reducing constantly To become nothing And I was barely breathing A heart forced to beat Eyes bloodshot But you could not see And you were blinded From the self-despair and pity A heart Torn and stomped all over And you were shaking From the tremors only You could feel But I could not steady your hands I was waiting for you to save me, I forgot magic only happens when you least expect it You were waiting for me to notice You forgot I was too caught up fighting my own battles You were bitter Over the times I had let you go You forgot I loved you w every ounce of my being I was broken Over the times you did not care enough I forgot You are a human with your own limits And so we fell apart In the most common ways We forgot what we had Because we were too busy grieving what the other person lacked And now that the end is near I see where we went wrong I loved you and you loved me But love is almost never enough And I got my wish With my last breath I took your name The earth shook,the sky turned black, This is my last farewell I'll never see you again

0

Apr 26, 2015

Apr 26, 2015 at 6:49 AM UTC

AthousandMidnightEpiphanies

Tremors

And I was falling, So fast Reducing constantly To become nothing And I was barely breathing A heart forced to beat Eyes bloodshot But you could not see And you were blinded From the self-despair and pity A heart Torn and stomped all over And you were shaking From the tremors only You could feel But I could not steady your hands I was waiting for you to save me, I forgot magic only happens when you least expect it You were waiting for me to notice You forgot I was too caught up fighting my own battles You were bitter Over the times I had let you go You forgot I loved you w every ounce of my being I was broken Over the times you did not care enough I forgot You are a human with your own limits And so we fell apart In the most common ways We forgot what we had Because we were too busy grieving what the other person lacked And now that the end is near I see where we went wrong I loved you and you loved me But love is almost never enough And I got my wish With my last breath I took your name The earth shook,the sky turned black, This is my last farewell I'll never see you again

42

Most of all. it's the truculent desire hardly shielded, creating whirlwind, shaking the woods of my mind, then insistent fingers in an ****** day dream,touch intimately to arouse my hood, those robust waves inch forward to my shores, I shudder,again and again, like a sea swell, in an intense want, we are engorged, a mania for the moon, slouching behind the clouds, your eyes had always spoken gently, yet brewed storms. I sense a wish that yearns culmination in my invasion, full luscious red lips, smeared with the spices of amour, their own symbolism eloquent, as wet they are, whispering yes, yes coal black eyes can't hide the eagerness, they peer, your body, now so tender has a tremor,anticipating my touch, you are ready for a journey together, to the far deeper ends an impatient waterway, aren't you,awaiting my row boat, for a fervorous exploration together, through the watery canals

0

Apr 9, 2015

Apr 9, 2015 at 7:03 AM UTC

k-balachandran

Most of all, it's the wild vibes your desire do not wish to hide

Most of all. it's the truculent desire hardly shielded, creating whirlwind, shaking the woods of my mind, then insistent fingers in an ****** day dream,touch intimately to arouse my hood, those robust waves inch forward to my shores, I shudder,again and again, like a sea swell, in an intense want, we are engorged, a mania for the moon, slouching behind the clouds, your eyes had always spoken gently, yet brewed storms. I sense a wish that yearns culmination in my invasion, full luscious red lips, smeared with the spices of amour, their own symbolism eloquent, as wet they are, whispering yes, yes coal black eyes can't hide the eagerness, they peer, your body, now so tender has a tremor,anticipating my touch, you are ready for a journey together, to the far deeper ends an impatient waterway, aren't you,awaiting my row boat, for a fervorous exploration together, through the watery canals

16

everything i've ever known turns to dust, spiraling in a constellation of tremors and hyperventilation and worry, so much worry, and every moment in which i exist i can feel my heart threaten to beat straight out of my ribcage and maybe i want it to.

0

Sep 15, 2014

Sep 15, 2014 at 7:26 PM UTC

cr

panic disorders

everything i've ever known turns to dust, spiraling in a constellation of tremors and hyperventilation and worry, so much worry, and every moment in which i exist i can feel my heart threaten to beat straight out of my ribcage and maybe i want it to.

10