"blearing" poems - Hello Poetry

I love you more than words can say; My love for you is greater than the light of day. I love you more than the darkest night; You are the key to the stars so bright. I love you more than the nightingales of spring; You bring such a warmth that makes me sing. I love you more than the sun in winter For you make the cold less bitter. When my world consists of only grey You paint with all to the colours of May. While I walk about my world without sight There you are, guiding me with your light. When I can only find the world blearing There you are, making a clearing. You are, in my life, my golden factor, for You enrich my winter with Spring’s finest flower.

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Feb 13, 2014

Feb 13, 2014 at 11:44 PM UTC

elforthefirst

I love you more than words can say

I love you more than words can say; My love for you is greater than the light of day. I love you more than the darkest night; You are the key to the stars so bright. I love you more than the nightingales of spring; You bring such a warmth that makes me sing. I love you more than the sun in winter For you make the cold less bitter. When my world consists of only grey You paint with all to the colours of May. While I walk about my world without sight There you are, guiding me with your light. When I can only find the world blearing There you are, making a clearing. You are, in my life, my golden factor, for You enrich my winter with Spring’s finest flower.

16

Dazzling moonlight all bright Mocking my blearing fears, Exfoliating my peaceful daydream Haunting, Evocating, Nagging, It burns down my walls all in, Leaving me dreading for the next night With eyes filled with poignant memories.

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May 20, 2021

May 20, 2021 at 1:08 PM UTC

therunedreveries

SLEEPLESS NIGHTS

Dazzling moonlight all bright Mocking my blearing fears, Exfoliating my peaceful daydream Haunting, Evocating, Nagging, It burns down my walls all in, Leaving me dreading for the next night With eyes filled with poignant memories.

9

Minds afire with wanton desire The feeing of skin touching skin Silken soft verse velvet smooth A kiss a breath all pants and moans Desire in motion lets apply the lotion Music all blearing all going crazy lost in thoughts, Minds on fire

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Jan 29, 2013

Jan 29, 2013 at 10:55 AM UTC

drew-dockerty

Mind Fire

Minds afire with wanton desire The feeing of skin touching skin Silken soft verse velvet smooth A kiss a breath all pants and moans Desire in motion lets apply the lotion Music all blearing all going crazy lost in thoughts, Minds on fire

7

A single drop falls, From the heavens, Piercing through, The black sky, Till it lands. Softly grazing the windowpane, A wandering rabbit, Leaving its trail across the glass, Drip. It's kin soon follow, Falling from the sky, Impatient fingers drumming on the glass, Drip drop pitter patter, Tap tap tap tap tap, falling down and down and down, Still more and more and more, now the glass is drenched with little beads, All leaping and bounding and prancing they fall, They are newborn fauns splashing and playing in the dark, And moremoremoremoremore over and over again, Tumbling down the glass in an onslaught they surge, Harder and harder and faster and faster now a horde of running gazelles, Trying to escape their hunter, pummeling and pounding against the glass, Blearing wide eyes, darting every which way, over and over, crashing, thrashing, bumping and squirming and runningrunningrunning And Then thunder!!!!! A roaring lion through the night, It's raw power unleashed from the captivity it has been held, Angry and violent It tears through the air, ripping and shredding, And when peace seemed a long vanished dream from the minds eye, Somehow it's found, Amid the chaos, And the storm, dries up, Pitter. Patter. Drop.

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Apr 3, 2015

Apr 3, 2015 at 10:09 AM UTC

leah-pifer

Rain revised

A single drop falls, From the heavens, Piercing through, The black sky, Till it lands. Softly grazing the windowpane, A wandering rabbit, Leaving its trail across the glass, Drip. It's kin soon follow, Falling from the sky, Impatient fingers drumming on the glass, Drip drop pitter patter, Tap tap tap tap tap, falling down and down and down, Still more and more and more, now the glass is drenched with little beads, All leaping and bounding and prancing they fall, They are newborn fauns splashing and playing in the dark, And moremoremoremoremore over and over again, Tumbling down the glass in an onslaught they surge, Harder and harder and faster and faster now a horde of running gazelles, Trying to escape their hunter, pummeling and pounding against the glass, Blearing wide eyes, darting every which way, over and over, crashing, thrashing, bumping and squirming and runningrunningrunning And Then thunder!!!!! A roaring lion through the night, It's raw power unleashed from the captivity it has been held, Angry and violent It tears through the air, ripping and shredding, And when peace seemed a long vanished dream from the minds eye, Somehow it's found, Amid the chaos, And the storm, dries up, Pitter. Patter. Drop.

37

I’m not bitter in this depression. No, I am more thankful for what I have got, to cushion my fall from the bridge. It’s mostly fabrication, this depression – I know it. It comes from a half-lifetime of neurotic deities, spinning their indie white boy musings around as echoes in my head. I convinced myself that sorrow was the only way to feel the soul. Some people take pills for their ills. They pop them like sugar cubes into their mouths – gaping at their daily escape to sanity. They heave sanity like a boulder each day, just to feign animation. Others will talk on and on about their issues, leaving the rest of us in blearing boredom; but at least they’re feeling okay. The remainders take to sweet surrender, nourishing panic attacks with red wine and ****** paintings. Nothing matters anymore. Not the Damascus Road to scaly eyes and computer screens; or giving your life to spreadsheets for the boss with his eyes on your skirt. I see no God up in the sky now, as the adverts pollute the stars, and I see no science in all of this self-pity; as a white guy has very little to complain about. Everyone is just a representation of a memory now. Each conversation feels like an abstraction from some ancient, fevered dream. They criss-cross my life in every decreasing patterns – old friends now nothing but a passing, reluctant nod. Family spin yarn around me, and let me laze on the couch, but never can I tell them of the places I have found myself in. Trust is blankness. I’ll give you all of it now, because there’s nothing left to hurt.

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Apr 22, 2014

Apr 22, 2014 at 9:18 PM UTC

Edward-Coles

Incongruent

I’m not bitter in this depression. No, I am more thankful for what I have got, to cushion my fall from the bridge. It’s mostly fabrication, this depression – I know it. It comes from a half-lifetime of neurotic deities, spinning their indie white boy musings around as echoes in my head. I convinced myself that sorrow was the only way to feel the soul. Some people take pills for their ills. They pop them like sugar cubes into their mouths – gaping at their daily escape to sanity. They heave sanity like a boulder each day, just to feign animation. Others will talk on and on about their issues, leaving the rest of us in blearing boredom; but at least they’re feeling okay. The remainders take to sweet surrender, nourishing panic attacks with red wine and ****** paintings. Nothing matters anymore. Not the Damascus Road to scaly eyes and computer screens; or giving your life to spreadsheets for the boss with his eyes on your skirt. I see no God up in the sky now, as the adverts pollute the stars, and I see no science in all of this self-pity; as a white guy has very little to complain about. Everyone is just a representation of a memory now. Each conversation feels like an abstraction from some ancient, fevered dream. They criss-cross my life in every decreasing patterns – old friends now nothing but a passing, reluctant nod. Family spin yarn around me, and let me laze on the couch, but never can I tell them of the places I have found myself in. Trust is blankness. I’ll give you all of it now, because there’s nothing left to hurt.

4

All scattered faced boredom blearing godess of waters blearing sirens knifes upturned screaming fabrics clothing wind blown sea torn ears faded noise outrun Time a story smiles a glory evil always follows tiptoe silence acid swallowed Eyes buzzing cheers, democratic weights are matter electrical lighting sleep like chocolate

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Jan 17, 2017

Jan 17, 2017 at 5:25 PM UTC

georden-williamson

fly living

All scattered faced boredom blearing godess of waters blearing sirens knifes upturned screaming fabrics clothing wind blown sea torn ears faded noise outrun Time a story smiles a glory evil always follows tiptoe silence acid swallowed Eyes buzzing cheers, democratic weights are matter electrical lighting sleep like chocolate

20

Music blearing heat searing sweaty bodies sway Festival fever Music weaver Watching bands play In a trance as we dance memories of yesterday

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Jun 23, 2018

Jun 23, 2018 at 11:53 AM UTC

debbie-brindley

Memories Of Yesterday

Music blearing heat searing sweaty bodies sway Festival fever Music weaver Watching bands play In a trance as we dance memories of yesterday

9

i remember you like winter- untold a whistle in the heft of its dawn warm in the touch of numbing air another narrative yet to unfold i remember you like tempest- still haze and nimbus and blur neptune setting down quiet amidst the thrill akin to a morning dew sleeping on a leaf i remember you like midnight sky mirroring fragile stars gone astray beyond the compass of the pacific sweeping eyes wandering through the desert of space and time i remember you like an afternoon pouring rain running gently down my windowpane fog blearing the cracks across the looking glass another riddle yet to unravel until the last yet... still. i remember you like the summer campfire sea breeze a silver lining in the deep end that mellow tinge of red on the horizon amidst the serene azure no wind could mend i remember you like my fervid morning alarms a quiver that keeps me grounded a tune amongst the chaos that surrounds it the melody of a new day i remember you like the distant lies i tell myself that i will never be enough for somebody intensely during dark days like these i remember you. like i remember myself you remind me of a ghost feeling often swept off by thoughts that speak louder stingin spines, humming veins, that crease across your cheeks and all that is concealed under lastly- not i remember you as you are imperfect but mine.

0

Feb 14, 2021

Feb 14, 2021 at 6:26 AM UTC

rekenerer

an abstract memory

i remember you like winter- untold a whistle in the heft of its dawn warm in the touch of numbing air another narrative yet to unfold i remember you like tempest- still haze and nimbus and blur neptune setting down quiet amidst the thrill akin to a morning dew sleeping on a leaf i remember you like midnight sky mirroring fragile stars gone astray beyond the compass of the pacific sweeping eyes wandering through the desert of space and time i remember you like an afternoon pouring rain running gently down my windowpane fog blearing the cracks across the looking glass another riddle yet to unravel until the last yet... still. i remember you like the summer campfire sea breeze a silver lining in the deep end that mellow tinge of red on the horizon amidst the serene azure no wind could mend i remember you like my fervid morning alarms a quiver that keeps me grounded a tune amongst the chaos that surrounds it the melody of a new day i remember you like the distant lies i tell myself that i will never be enough for somebody intensely during dark days like these i remember you. like i remember myself you remind me of a ghost feeling often swept off by thoughts that speak louder stingin spines, humming veins, that crease across your cheeks and all that is concealed under lastly- not i remember you as you are imperfect but mine.

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