"anchorite" poems - Hello Poetry

We watched the sun fall down and scrape its knee again, across the horizon. Effusing amaranth, carmine, and cochineal across polluted vista. It felt petty to issue guttural laughs, or engage the myofacial crescents beneath its visual lament as the Earth turned its back again. We watched the sun rise, bruised, tender and shy this morning. Its muddled contusion obviated by the gauze of fog. A mottled neophyte - Luminescent crepuscular rays defied dregs of interstellar debris and cloud. Aching to kiss your skin - In stellar cloud nursery, it eschewed the torque of orbit and gravity - eras before verity of your essence. Humbly settling concentrically about oblate sphere, and gaseous tome. Latterly - It altered the atmospheric pressure on the other side of the planet a week antecedently, as you clung to your dream lattice, and Earth innately turned oblate nucleus. Its intent – A veneration of you. It bade the atmosphere convey a breeze echoing about your dermis, as it gilded your frame laconically, betwixt shaded steps beneath cloud and arbor. The sun yelled at me at its pinnacle today, Pallid bone – molten - miasma of rage Its core missive garnered inertia – coronal plasma warping ellipsoid factions in inflections of elusive filigree Pirouetting spicules spattered smelted torrents in the dismal anchorite Atomic schism – silent but felt It stoked humidity under shadowed niche - casual vaporous smears evinced no clemency. Flesh torqued, and seized beneath itself, briny globules shed from puckered pore. Culminations of sensitive fluid sacs scorched into the shallows of my chassis. Insignia knit in cellular shrapnel The sun ignored me today – or perhaps, it was I it. Enigmatic tenacious resolution – an echo of its gravitational collapse Inverse thermonuclear fusion It is not fear in a relationship that keeps you apart, it is neglect of the infinitesimal.

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Jan 26, 2014

Jan 26, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC

meagan-moore

Heliophilia

We watched the sun fall down and scrape its knee again, across the horizon. Effusing amaranth, carmine, and cochineal across polluted vista. It felt petty to issue guttural laughs, or engage the myofacial crescents beneath its visual lament as the Earth turned its back again. We watched the sun rise, bruised, tender and shy this morning. Its muddled contusion obviated by the gauze of fog. A mottled neophyte - Luminescent crepuscular rays defied dregs of interstellar debris and cloud. Aching to kiss your skin - In stellar cloud nursery, it eschewed the torque of orbit and gravity - eras before verity of your essence. Humbly settling concentrically about oblate sphere, and gaseous tome. Latterly - It altered the atmospheric pressure on the other side of the planet a week antecedently, as you clung to your dream lattice, and Earth innately turned oblate nucleus. Its intent – A veneration of you. It bade the atmosphere convey a breeze echoing about your dermis, as it gilded your frame laconically, betwixt shaded steps beneath cloud and arbor. The sun yelled at me at its pinnacle today, Pallid bone – molten - miasma of rage Its core missive garnered inertia – coronal plasma warping ellipsoid factions in inflections of elusive filigree Pirouetting spicules spattered smelted torrents in the dismal anchorite Atomic schism – silent but felt It stoked humidity under shadowed niche - casual vaporous smears evinced no clemency. Flesh torqued, and seized beneath itself, briny globules shed from puckered pore. Culminations of sensitive fluid sacs scorched into the shallows of my chassis. Insignia knit in cellular shrapnel The sun ignored me today – or perhaps, it was I it. Enigmatic tenacious resolution – an echo of its gravitational collapse Inverse thermonuclear fusion It is not fear in a relationship that keeps you apart, it is neglect of the infinitesimal.

27

I walk to the newsstand over blue gray cobblestone jumping up my soles, the windows of every mother in Viterbo looking at my swaying arms, at the very reason I love the squint of eyes in morning sun. Because I am free from anticipating a slow sinking earth, hung twined, hung taut, hung thin, hung dried, peeling off the body like scree, relenting. Because I am ten. From five lire scrunched in a fist, from a father’s request for Il Messaggero, steps can brim with direction, with place, with an appetence for growing a grown man would lunge at. Could make a mute anchorite sing again to an unsacred sky: “a son is a son as a song is a song, this is that I am is why I belong.” I walk to the newsstand under glaring windows, under the look of all Viterbo’s mothers, under the sluice of morning sun that piques the eyes as sliced brine, and the stand is shuttered. Dirt metal slats I touch once to make sure, and then I walk straight back, back with the sun now behind, illuminating stone, in front of me.

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Mar 27, 2012

Mar 27, 2012 at 6:29 PM UTC

daniello

Through Morning Viterbo

I walk to the newsstand over blue gray cobblestone jumping up my soles, the windows of every mother in Viterbo looking at my swaying arms, at the very reason I love the squint of eyes in morning sun. Because I am free from anticipating a slow sinking earth, hung twined, hung taut, hung thin, hung dried, peeling off the body like scree, relenting. Because I am ten. From five lire scrunched in a fist, from a father’s request for Il Messaggero, steps can brim with direction, with place, with an appetence for growing a grown man would lunge at. Could make a mute anchorite sing again to an unsacred sky: “a son is a son as a song is a song, this is that I am is why I belong.” I walk to the newsstand under glaring windows, under the look of all Viterbo’s mothers, under the sluice of morning sun that piques the eyes as sliced brine, and the stand is shuttered. Dirt metal slats I touch once to make sure, and then I walk straight back, back with the sun now behind, illuminating stone, in front of me.

32

Once consumed in the depths of their heart you chose anchorite over following them into the dark. Though it was to their dismay, over all things the Lord shall stay...

0

Jul 7, 2015

Jul 7, 2015 at 5:58 AM UTC

mashawn-copeland

Priorities

Once consumed in the depths of their heart you chose anchorite over following them into the dark. Though it was to their dismay, over all things the Lord shall stay...

1

you can find yourself bricked up an unwilling Anchorite -all by your own hand.

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Apr 25, 2017

Apr 25, 2017 at 10:04 AM UTC