Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Tags
#vantage
7:00am Shelter Island, Sat Sep10 on the south west edge of the isle, the slowrise sunrise just behind the trees, so early day yet, no full frontal of a sun bathing to wake up woman, babes asleeping, but the animals know exactly this hours early perfection. indeed, the crazy squirrels are random hither and dithering in spurts of energy, only stopping to observe a viewing of the humans nest~resting through the glass doors with their inquisitive, self-possessed, bedside reckless manner, perfected. the suns pealing gleaming gleanings picks out any shiny reflective surface that enhances its low-rise greeting, with a chorale of living objects singing “Hallelujah orb, what’s in store for us today,” river~bay, wake-less, its becalming, marbling surface, again, perfected. me? I’m mugged by the perfection intersection of my eyes-scape, first coffee, the holy quietude, only the regular soft breaths beside, lend a counterpoint to these thoughts and the litany of chores the iCal happily, annoyingly,  prematurely but with certainty lists, resistance (Walk!) perfectly ok. ok not to move an inch, watching this daily movie rerun, that energizes hope, a contemporary localized contented without the humdrum of blaring headlines, talking heads, and the infiltration of the guilty unfulfilled responsibilities demanding a due, then heavens signal me, Donovan, earbud singing Colors, confirmed perfectly ok! “*Yellow is the color of my true love's hair In the mornin', when we rise In the mornin', when we rise That's the time, that's the time I love the best*”
0
Sep 10, 2022
Sep 10, 2022 at 8:21 AM UTC
nat-lipstadt
My Saturday Vantage Point
7:00am Shelter Island, Sat Sep10 on the south west edge of the isle, the slowrise sunrise just behind the trees, so early day yet, no full frontal of a sun bathing to wake up woman, babes asleeping, but the animals know exactly this hours early perfection. indeed, the crazy squirrels are random hither and dithering in spurts of energy, only stopping to observe a viewing of the humans nest~resting through the glass doors with their inquisitive, self-possessed, bedside reckless manner, perfected. the suns pealing gleaming gleanings picks out any shiny reflective surface that enhances its low-rise greeting, with a chorale of living objects singing “Hallelujah orb, what’s in store for us today,” river~bay, wake-less, its becalming, marbling surface, again, perfected. me? I’m mugged by the perfection intersection of my eyes-scape, first coffee, the holy quietude, only the regular soft breaths beside, lend a counterpoint to these thoughts and the litany of chores the iCal happily, annoyingly,  prematurely but with certainty lists, resistance (Walk!) perfectly ok. ok not to move an inch, watching this daily movie rerun, that energizes hope, a contemporary localized contented without the humdrum of blaring headlines, talking heads, and the infiltration of the guilty unfulfilled responsibilities demanding a due, then heavens signal me, Donovan, earbud singing Colors, confirmed perfectly ok! “*Yellow is the color of my true love's hair In the mornin', when we rise In the mornin', when we rise That's the time, that's the time I love the best*”
Continue reading...
38
my heart is on fire one half cup espresso, a vape and a song that drapes my heart in a purple fire, with the same purple glow inside the go go bar where that dancer handed Bukowski a dried lily But only for a moment. lesson #104 and the music rides a sine wave into my left ear. I sat upon a lotus pad and kept a straight back the Angelus Novus couldn’t (insert link) close its wings against the winds of Paradise so elated were the Gods by the progress of man. so high the rubble of the wreckage the view from its summit rivaled the vantage gained from standing atop the Six Grandfathers within the Four-headed Dog from across the pond. national broadcast in the jungle and all the box would do is talk and all the cockroaches would do is persist and all the machetes would do is hack and all the bodies burned and Felicien Kabuga was kindly granted asylum by the West and remained at large for over 25 years. THANKS A LOT SWITZERLAND. (insert link)
0
Aug 12, 2020
Aug 12, 2020 at 6:22 PM UTC
LonesomeDub
Radio Télévision Libre des Mille Collines
my heart is on fire one half cup espresso, a vape and a song that drapes my heart in a purple fire, with the same purple glow inside the go go bar where that dancer handed Bukowski a dried lily But only for a moment. lesson #104 and the music rides a sine wave into my left ear. I sat upon a lotus pad and kept a straight back the Angelus Novus couldn’t (insert link) close its wings against the winds of Paradise so elated were the Gods by the progress of man. so high the rubble of the wreckage the view from its summit rivaled the vantage gained from standing atop the Six Grandfathers within the Four-headed Dog from across the pond. national broadcast in the jungle and all the box would do is talk and all the cockroaches would do is persist and all the machetes would do is hack and all the bodies burned and Felicien Kabuga was kindly granted asylum by the West and remained at large for over 25 years. THANKS A LOT SWITZERLAND. (insert link)
Continue reading...
33