"bestirring" poems - Hello Poetry

Forsaken: crestfallen, and he's been Vacant, but bestirring himself now to Once more go out on a limb to seek, If haply he could a new find pronto, A girl who'd like a medicine his heart Mend and fill, with her rib, the space In his side with her perfectly cast love, Fitting unto him for the rest of his days.

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Oct 9, 2014

Oct 9, 2014 at 11:47 AM UTC

folorunsho-obalugemo

Bestirred

Forsaken: crestfallen, and he's been Vacant, but bestirring himself now to Once more go out on a limb to seek, If haply he could a new find pronto, A girl who'd like a medicine his heart Mend and fill, with her rib, the space In his side with her perfectly cast love, Fitting unto him for the rest of his days.

8

It is a euphoric moment and to her surprise her mind goes blank, The images in her mind and the floating words the fountain of her imagination greedily drank. The poetic profusion bubbling within her was satiated as she grasped her pen, The treasure trove concealed in her heart was at the threshold to appeal to the men.. Taking one step further from the actual and nearer to the imaginative feature, Her intellectual forge bestirring her to seek the invigorating charm of Nature. She can capture the glimpses of the past and ponder over the predictions of the future, Philosophies of life or a utopian world she can easily nurture.. Such is the power of her wistful words, Which can openly challenge the sheathed swords. She can sway the world with her imaginative story, And register her name in the pages of wondrous glory!!

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Jun 3, 2020

Jun 3, 2020 at 11:09 PM UTC

himani

Tribute to a poet

It is a euphoric moment and to her surprise her mind goes blank, The images in her mind and the floating words the fountain of her imagination greedily drank. The poetic profusion bubbling within her was satiated as she grasped her pen, The treasure trove concealed in her heart was at the threshold to appeal to the men.. Taking one step further from the actual and nearer to the imaginative feature, Her intellectual forge bestirring her to seek the invigorating charm of Nature. She can capture the glimpses of the past and ponder over the predictions of the future, Philosophies of life or a utopian world she can easily nurture.. Such is the power of her wistful words, Which can openly challenge the sheathed swords. She can sway the world with her imaginative story, And register her name in the pages of wondrous glory!!

12

hard facade soft edges blurred depressions precipitous slopes fragile points of origin no shape a heavy space dappling of light eyes a fusion into the mind a focus approaches my forehead meets my finger tips thumbs caress my ears nose peeks out for air tension builds across my neck the day is bestirring a haunting commences the stirring street clamours my feet embrace the floor the bathroom draws me near the bus door shushes close my hand finds a bar to hold an unanswered welcoming smile in the crowd the window fog of mortal breath ting, my inescapable stop my watch prompts me to toil the briefcase opens amongst discarded papers lunch makes it to the drawer password…. needs changing emails overflow the inbox an empty outbox unpaid demands crossed out scribbles a match of a pencil smell of an unlaundered shirt the clamour of the phone a deadline agreed the digital clock hoots in red at my predicament the editor hot, the ink is cold lame excuses unworthy of air time to recant elbows take my weight as I bow pray-full fingers encamp on my face eyelids close here a place for shapes of my imagination

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Aug 9, 2020

Aug 9, 2020 at 7:29 AM UTC

kevin-wright-2

Shapes of our imagination: Rodins Non Thinker

hard facade soft edges blurred depressions precipitous slopes fragile points of origin no shape a heavy space dappling of light eyes a fusion into the mind a focus approaches my forehead meets my finger tips thumbs caress my ears nose peeks out for air tension builds across my neck the day is bestirring a haunting commences the stirring street clamours my feet embrace the floor the bathroom draws me near the bus door shushes close my hand finds a bar to hold an unanswered welcoming smile in the crowd the window fog of mortal breath ting, my inescapable stop my watch prompts me to toil the briefcase opens amongst discarded papers lunch makes it to the drawer password…. needs changing emails overflow the inbox an empty outbox unpaid demands crossed out scribbles a match of a pencil smell of an unlaundered shirt the clamour of the phone a deadline agreed the digital clock hoots in red at my predicament the editor hot, the ink is cold lame excuses unworthy of air time to recant elbows take my weight as I bow pray-full fingers encamp on my face eyelids close here a place for shapes of my imagination

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