"ablur" poems - Hello Poetry

Through a tunnel I walk. Stumbling upon the demons I stalk. Straining to understand their words. Yet afraid of what their message may hold. The walls and path are all ablur. As further along I do blunder. Stumbling and falling, To rise once more. Searching for a magical door. To release me from this caliginous gambit. Then the goblins and trepidation omit, To deliver me anew to the suns bright glare. And release me once more from the captivity of despair

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May 11, 2023

May 11, 2023 at 9:07 PM UTC

coleman-m-lowe

Myopic Tunnel

Through a tunnel I walk. Stumbling upon the demons I stalk. Straining to understand their words. Yet afraid of what their message may hold. The walls and path are all ablur. As further along I do blunder. Stumbling and falling, To rise once more. Searching for a magical door. To release me from this caliginous gambit. Then the goblins and trepidation omit, To deliver me anew to the suns bright glare. And release me once more from the captivity of despair

13

I've always been the lucky one My life was never changed for the worse by fate Only for the better I was not the one in the boat when it hit the rock amongst the rapids I was not the forest floor being burned by the flames I was not the one who fell from my grace during the cool mornings I was not the one whose clothes were covered in ***** and mind ablur But my fate is no longer in my hands, And I don't know what I would do If I could never again have the opportunity to make those mistakes

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Feb 8, 2014

Feb 8, 2014 at 9:00 PM UTC

kelly-catherine

The Draw

I've always been the lucky one My life was never changed for the worse by fate Only for the better I was not the one in the boat when it hit the rock amongst the rapids I was not the forest floor being burned by the flames I was not the one who fell from my grace during the cool mornings I was not the one whose clothes were covered in ***** and mind ablur But my fate is no longer in my hands, And I don't know what I would do If I could never again have the opportunity to make those mistakes

11

Honestly, I don't know what you're on about. I watch your mouth move as though in a race. I hear the words, nod an assent or two, Then work out how to arrange my face. Sixteen years on, I can bet my life It's any of issues one to five Perhaps disguised as new and bold But countless times we've jived this jive. It's either mother/sister/father in law You don't spend enough time with me I washed up last, it's your turn now Money just doesn't grow on trees. That's four, oh wait and last not least It's the cherry atop our well known list: Are you happy in our life right now, If I was gone of sudden would I be missed? Interrupted of course by the offspring two Never a chance to talk about The things that make us fight and kiss Talking in code that's fraught with doubt. Your voice sinks further from my conscious realm Where the blurry words blur and blur some more And somehow we arrive at this day's end As a melody stuck on a repeating score. I crawl to bed a respectful time after you Touch your arm, cold, betrayed by sheet I encircle your chest as it fills and droops The familiar curve of your back I meet. I know not what all of this is finally about And that 'morrow brings with it new words ablur The only thing I know is about you, my love Without you I would not want tomorrow to occur.

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Feb 17, 2016

Feb 17, 2016 at 12:37 AM UTC

ssu7

The mundane

Honestly, I don't know what you're on about. I watch your mouth move as though in a race. I hear the words, nod an assent or two, Then work out how to arrange my face. Sixteen years on, I can bet my life It's any of issues one to five Perhaps disguised as new and bold But countless times we've jived this jive. It's either mother/sister/father in law You don't spend enough time with me I washed up last, it's your turn now Money just doesn't grow on trees. That's four, oh wait and last not least It's the cherry atop our well known list: Are you happy in our life right now, If I was gone of sudden would I be missed? Interrupted of course by the offspring two Never a chance to talk about The things that make us fight and kiss Talking in code that's fraught with doubt. Your voice sinks further from my conscious realm Where the blurry words blur and blur some more And somehow we arrive at this day's end As a melody stuck on a repeating score. I crawl to bed a respectful time after you Touch your arm, cold, betrayed by sheet I encircle your chest as it fills and droops The familiar curve of your back I meet. I know not what all of this is finally about And that 'morrow brings with it new words ablur The only thing I know is about you, my love Without you I would not want tomorrow to occur.

32

Deep beneath a pillowed sky, there A restful restlessness abides Nestled in a perennial hill Whose sentinel trees raised their hands, White with subtle deference, They do not usher the world flowing ‘hind, But show me an islet high above time. I sat there in ponderance at the stagnation of clouds Holding on one end a gold string of a kite My thoughts tethered to those ghosts, Those wights, sitting amongst me, those by-gone eras And down, on me, some vague horror weighted To them it was the Stones that made them feel dated I thought I could feel slippage, some loss of traction They? They bore a whole lifetime without Satisfaction. The breeze smells of gossip and Jaeger on their lips; Everything is on point: dances, romances, localist quips. Whoever would have guessed Memories ablur could be the most vivid? Such, I suppose, is an art form insipid. I had to step away from this field of time It had overtaken, that shadow of mine All the trees now, bow and they bend Prostrate, like a weeping willow. When they step out into the world, A bath of gold in the dusk of their lives Shall fall before their feet, denude from their shadows To run on ahead.

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Aug 14, 2014

Aug 14, 2014 at 8:20 AM UTC

jp-goss

Aeviternus

Deep beneath a pillowed sky, there A restful restlessness abides Nestled in a perennial hill Whose sentinel trees raised their hands, White with subtle deference, They do not usher the world flowing ‘hind, But show me an islet high above time. I sat there in ponderance at the stagnation of clouds Holding on one end a gold string of a kite My thoughts tethered to those ghosts, Those wights, sitting amongst me, those by-gone eras And down, on me, some vague horror weighted To them it was the Stones that made them feel dated I thought I could feel slippage, some loss of traction They? They bore a whole lifetime without Satisfaction. The breeze smells of gossip and Jaeger on their lips; Everything is on point: dances, romances, localist quips. Whoever would have guessed Memories ablur could be the most vivid? Such, I suppose, is an art form insipid. I had to step away from this field of time It had overtaken, that shadow of mine All the trees now, bow and they bend Prostrate, like a weeping willow. When they step out into the world, A bath of gold in the dusk of their lives Shall fall before their feet, denude from their shadows To run on ahead.

29

Wandering words, evasive prose Removed from my clutching mind Incredulous laugh, they dodge and hide Tiptoeing through my daily grind Enters but briefly an image so clear Rippling through my hungry thoughts 'twixt eager fingers awaits my pen Shamelessly nebulous, I follow the dots Bumbling through, I falter and fall Lying face down in a pool of nouns Organising verse to paint image ablur Clumsily in finished verse I drown Kindling gone, die these embers of rhyme... ...for prose to revisit, I await my time.

0

Apr 11, 2016

Apr 11, 2016 at 4:58 AM UTC

ssu7

writer's block. (acrostic)

Wandering words, evasive prose Removed from my clutching mind Incredulous laugh, they dodge and hide Tiptoeing through my daily grind Enters but briefly an image so clear Rippling through my hungry thoughts 'twixt eager fingers awaits my pen Shamelessly nebulous, I follow the dots Bumbling through, I falter and fall Lying face down in a pool of nouns Organising verse to paint image ablur Clumsily in finished verse I drown Kindling gone, die these embers of rhyme... ...for prose to revisit, I await my time.

14

Weeping sonatas haunt the patio Underlined with your twisting fingertips Once ablur and tracing Beethoven Debussy Mozart and Bach and it's all gone now— I still recall your grey eyes as clearly as the rusted and snagged red wood that forms the old arbour Where we use to sit and trade stories. Still here and seeming A relic that should have been forgotten.— I watch the sun turn the wood white Then crackle crisply into night, I can still Hear your spectral steps from the day you Left us. I slept in the bed that used to be yours wondering why.

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Sep 10, 2019

Sep 10, 2019 at 5:03 PM UTC

LilRimbaud99

Old poem about missing a relative

Weeping sonatas haunt the patio Underlined with your twisting fingertips Once ablur and tracing Beethoven Debussy Mozart and Bach and it's all gone now— I still recall your grey eyes as clearly as the rusted and snagged red wood that forms the old arbour Where we use to sit and trade stories. Still here and seeming A relic that should have been forgotten.— I watch the sun turn the wood white Then crackle crisply into night, I can still Hear your spectral steps from the day you Left us. I slept in the bed that used to be yours wondering why.

15