"blearily" poems - Hello Poetry

Friday, 1211h A man collapses at lunch and his vitals spin away like marbles: pulse, breath, pallor rolling about on the floor out of reach of the heroes who shout his name, flash their pagers like the batman symbol. Someone get a doctor in here, now. The old Vets shuffle out of the room comment blearily on the poor guy I guess after the War things do not phase you the same but perhaps they didn't notice the hue of his lips. And then he stabilizes, and I fall apart aghast, aback, there is still tuna sandwich in my mouth ground by my teeth into a diamond to monument the recovery. The gurney rolls by, I know him. My stomach falls to Ground Floor in relief and despair. That's the thing about long term care these men are clever, they teach you so well how to live that you forget they're supposed to die.

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Mar 8, 2013

Mar 8, 2013 at 5:38 PM UTC

mure

The nature of the job.

Friday, 1211h A man collapses at lunch and his vitals spin away like marbles: pulse, breath, pallor rolling about on the floor out of reach of the heroes who shout his name, flash their pagers like the batman symbol. Someone get a doctor in here, now. The old Vets shuffle out of the room comment blearily on the poor guy I guess after the War things do not phase you the same but perhaps they didn't notice the hue of his lips. And then he stabilizes, and I fall apart aghast, aback, there is still tuna sandwich in my mouth ground by my teeth into a diamond to monument the recovery. The gurney rolls by, I know him. My stomach falls to Ground Floor in relief and despair. That's the thing about long term care these men are clever, they teach you so well how to live that you forget they're supposed to die.

22

I forgot to close the curtain last night The bedroom is flooded with brightness White walls and white sheets and your big t-shirt keeping me warm It's the perfect sunday morning The calm breeze pushes beyond the courtain Enticing summer scents flow past my nose I wish every morning was a sunday one I roll onto my side to look at you, the light slowly rousing you to wakefulness I press my cool cheek to the sleep-warmed skin of your bare back and curl my fingers through your hair My eyelashes flutter on your smooth skin as I blink the sleep from my eyes You can feel them, tickling you Your delicate, kiss swolen, perfect lips curl The softest of smiles plays across them The corners of your eyes crinkle And open, Blearily, to look into mine You scoop me into your warm arms and your fingertips are lazy As they trace patterns down my spine, Coaxing out my sigh I save specially for you We breathe Summer air together Every mornings like a sunday one with you

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Aug 27, 2013

Aug 27, 2013 at 3:42 PM UTC

jazzy-lake

Sunday Mornings

I forgot to close the curtain last night The bedroom is flooded with brightness White walls and white sheets and your big t-shirt keeping me warm It's the perfect sunday morning The calm breeze pushes beyond the courtain Enticing summer scents flow past my nose I wish every morning was a sunday one I roll onto my side to look at you, the light slowly rousing you to wakefulness I press my cool cheek to the sleep-warmed skin of your bare back and curl my fingers through your hair My eyelashes flutter on your smooth skin as I blink the sleep from my eyes You can feel them, tickling you Your delicate, kiss swolen, perfect lips curl The softest of smiles plays across them The corners of your eyes crinkle And open, Blearily, to look into mine You scoop me into your warm arms and your fingertips are lazy As they trace patterns down my spine, Coaxing out my sigh I save specially for you We breathe Summer air together Every mornings like a sunday one with you

22

Across the blistered gibber plain where flies die in the sand Through swamps of prickly sago where rotting death is planned, To stride in windblown tussock hills where wind vanes carved their say To saunter groves of green tree fern where moa giants did play. In clearings cut with alkali, tusked elephant would loom With crevassed hides, Methuselah, once aged in terms of doom. Whilst high above the rocky crags of ancient mountain high, The keening screech of kestral soaring up to deep blue sky. Heavy boots in crusted sand where tiny lizards flee Amidst the rust red rubble of volcanic rock and scree, To clamber up the ignimbrite, great Vulcan's steps of stone, Encrusted with thick epiphyte in lichen's mossy home. Up into the altitude where dark cloud clusters here And the threat of rolling thunder indicates that rain is near, Torrential in it's downpour with sudden squall of gale Surmounted, all quite suddenly, with a blinding blast of hail. Staggering to shelter in a tiny alpine hut To find hot coffee on the woodstove and a curvy, hot young **** To find us frollicking together beneath a patterned patchwork quilt Was quite beyond my imagination's comprehensions built? And afterwards in slumber through the curtains of our room I watched, in fascination, at a hanging, frozen moon And wondered, in amazement, at the doings of the day And speculated, sleepily, where tomorrow's prospects lay. Blearily I stretch out from the covers, nicely warm To nullify persistence of that alarm's intruding horn, Yawning into morning I remove myself from bed With panicked realisation....all dreams evacuate my head. Vanished are the alpine hut, the dolly bird, the caves The crash of rolling thunder and the plunge of mighty waves, Gone are those phantoms which dwelt inside my mind Devestatingly dismissed until re-dreamed another time. M. Pukehana Paradise 13 December 2014

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Dec 13, 2014

Dec 13, 2014 at 10:09 PM UTC

marshal-gebbie

Adventures of a Sweet Dreamer

Across the blistered gibber plain where flies die in the sand Through swamps of prickly sago where rotting death is planned, To stride in windblown tussock hills where wind vanes carved their say To saunter groves of green tree fern where moa giants did play. In clearings cut with alkali, tusked elephant would loom With crevassed hides, Methuselah, once aged in terms of doom. Whilst high above the rocky crags of ancient mountain high, The keening screech of kestral soaring up to deep blue sky. Heavy boots in crusted sand where tiny lizards flee Amidst the rust red rubble of volcanic rock and scree, To clamber up the ignimbrite, great Vulcan's steps of stone, Encrusted with thick epiphyte in lichen's mossy home. Up into the altitude where dark cloud clusters here And the threat of rolling thunder indicates that rain is near, Torrential in it's downpour with sudden squall of gale Surmounted, all quite suddenly, with a blinding blast of hail. Staggering to shelter in a tiny alpine hut To find hot coffee on the woodstove and a curvy, hot young **** To find us frollicking together beneath a patterned patchwork quilt Was quite beyond my imagination's comprehensions built? And afterwards in slumber through the curtains of our room I watched, in fascination, at a hanging, frozen moon And wondered, in amazement, at the doings of the day And speculated, sleepily, where tomorrow's prospects lay. Blearily I stretch out from the covers, nicely warm To nullify persistence of that alarm's intruding horn, Yawning into morning I remove myself from bed With panicked realisation....all dreams evacuate my head. Vanished are the alpine hut, the dolly bird, the caves The crash of rolling thunder and the plunge of mighty waves, Gone are those phantoms which dwelt inside my mind Devestatingly dismissed until re-dreamed another time. M. Pukehana Paradise 13 December 2014

35

"Everyone, at some point in their lives, wakes up in the middle of the night with the feeling that they are all alone in the world, and that nobody loves them now and that nobody will ever love them, and that they will never have a decent night's sleep again and will spend their lives wandering blearily around a loveless landscape, hoping desperately that their circumstances will improve, but suspecting, in their heart of hearts, that they will remain unloved forever. The best thing to do in these circumstances is to wake somebody else up, so that they can feel this way, too."

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Apr 25, 2014

Apr 25, 2014 at 1:33 PM UTC

OnceUponANevermind

More Lemony Snicket

"Everyone, at some point in their lives, wakes up in the middle of the night with the feeling that they are all alone in the world, and that nobody loves them now and that nobody will ever love them, and that they will never have a decent night's sleep again and will spend their lives wandering blearily around a loveless landscape, hoping desperately that their circumstances will improve, but suspecting, in their heart of hearts, that they will remain unloved forever. The best thing to do in these circumstances is to wake somebody else up, so that they can feel this way, too."

1

On the morning of the end, they wove the nooses of rough cord. Daylight broke cold, the sun did not warm the Earth. The sky was grey, the sun was dim. The hoarse whispers of Latin drifted across the barren court yard. Lined in stone, but for the creaking of the wooden gallows. The sullen crowd gathers, heavy in their silence. As they pull the bag from my head, I look blearily for you. They shove me up the steep steps, I stumble. The executioner tightens the noose around my neck. My hands are bound behind me, there's no fighting death. His grubby hand briefly grabs my face, He whispers cruel words, intent for them to be the last I shall hear. The lever is pulled and floor drops away, my last words I whisper, Come to the gallows, my dear. Crack.

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Dec 2, 2014

Dec 2, 2014 at 9:32 PM UTC

LizAndLilacs

Come to the Gallows, my dear

On the morning of the end, they wove the nooses of rough cord. Daylight broke cold, the sun did not warm the Earth. The sky was grey, the sun was dim. The hoarse whispers of Latin drifted across the barren court yard. Lined in stone, but for the creaking of the wooden gallows. The sullen crowd gathers, heavy in their silence. As they pull the bag from my head, I look blearily for you. They shove me up the steep steps, I stumble. The executioner tightens the noose around my neck. My hands are bound behind me, there's no fighting death. His grubby hand briefly grabs my face, He whispers cruel words, intent for them to be the last I shall hear. The lever is pulled and floor drops away, my last words I whisper, Come to the gallows, my dear. Crack.

15

Yawns chase each other dancing slow dreamy steps My mind wandered off an hour ago chasing after distraction with a flash of whirling colors like an iridescent hurricane. My voice remembers some notes of last night's laughter My tongue blearily waking up, savoring the feel of wine and smoke Hair wondrously disheveled Eyes with a tint of night's mantle Lips languorous throbs and silences the steady pulsating beat of red beckons me to feel morning gold on my skin. I stick my tongue out eager to take the sun in my mouth intermingling with the smells of night on my clothes Contentment is in the details.

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Sep 18, 2013

Sep 18, 2013 at 2:23 AM UTC

sarah-villaluz

Lazy Mornings

Yawns chase each other dancing slow dreamy steps My mind wandered off an hour ago chasing after distraction with a flash of whirling colors like an iridescent hurricane. My voice remembers some notes of last night's laughter My tongue blearily waking up, savoring the feel of wine and smoke Hair wondrously disheveled Eyes with a tint of night's mantle Lips languorous throbs and silences the steady pulsating beat of red beckons me to feel morning gold on my skin. I stick my tongue out eager to take the sun in my mouth intermingling with the smells of night on my clothes Contentment is in the details.

23

The bitterness of knowing You do not deserve sadness, As though pain were a prize You have not earned, and yet The knife in your heart, and life Pouring from your eyes to this page Beg to differ, But with a world that has earned sadness And I, who has just stumbled blearily across it, like a feast for my hungry soul, Stay bitterly and undeserving, Guilty for tears Without reason or right; a smile Is the simplest lie, but cloying When you have no right to be hurt It is unbearable, that smile That rests on my unbearable lips

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Mar 1, 2016

Mar 1, 2016 at 3:18 AM UTC

msamendable

The unbearable smile

The bitterness of knowing You do not deserve sadness, As though pain were a prize You have not earned, and yet The knife in your heart, and life Pouring from your eyes to this page Beg to differ, But with a world that has earned sadness And I, who has just stumbled blearily across it, like a feast for my hungry soul, Stay bitterly and undeserving, Guilty for tears Without reason or right; a smile Is the simplest lie, but cloying When you have no right to be hurt It is unbearable, that smile That rests on my unbearable lips

17

Drink me Inhale me Taste me Use me Yelled the fine things Through my drunken haze I brushed off reality Like a bitter taste of wine Funny looks Concerned gazes Puzzled stares Hidden critics I give you the finger My eyes blinking blearily I count the time As it continues to run Before Today, After Tomorrow The fun is never ending Thank you, brain Goodbye, conscience For I love being high With no regrets to forget the pain

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Oct 17, 2014

Oct 17, 2014 at 8:36 AM UTC

skye-gale

Medicine

Drink me Inhale me Taste me Use me Yelled the fine things Through my drunken haze I brushed off reality Like a bitter taste of wine Funny looks Concerned gazes Puzzled stares Hidden critics I give you the finger My eyes blinking blearily I count the time As it continues to run Before Today, After Tomorrow The fun is never ending Thank you, brain Goodbye, conscience For I love being high With no regrets to forget the pain

25