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"bracingly" poems
I learned to hold my breath the way leaves hold out for seasons change; continuously relentlessly bracingly - both in anticipation of the storm and caught beneath its savage gaze. The piercing ditty, melodious cries that uncoil us springs forth like flashes of lightning - fear that catapults towards another painful promise of sleepless nights and hope deferred yet held fast still. Still Still I need only be still. And I exhale Your name on my breath as I realise I’ve been holding air in my lungs, tighter than anxiety and fear clasped my heart causing the beats to come like torrential rain, like tears of release, relief, remorse that fall, surrendering to the One who sees me. I feel the load lift from my shoulders boulder by boulder 9.12, 9.57, 11.26, 13.50, 16.10, 18.12 every confidence, horrifying utterance weighed so heavy on my heart absorbed into yours piece for peace Yahweh Yireh. Still. Still. I need only be still.
0
Sep 15, 2025
Sep 15, 2025 at 5:46 PM UTC
ellen-joyce
Still
I learned to hold my breath the way leaves hold out for seasons change; continuously relentlessly bracingly - both in anticipation of the storm and caught beneath its savage gaze. The piercing ditty, melodious cries that uncoil us springs forth like flashes of lightning - fear that catapults towards another painful promise of sleepless nights and hope deferred yet held fast still. Still Still I need only be still. And I exhale Your name on my breath as I realise I’ve been holding air in my lungs, tighter than anxiety and fear clasped my heart causing the beats to come like torrential rain, like tears of release, relief, remorse that fall, surrendering to the One who sees me. I feel the load lift from my shoulders boulder by boulder 9.12, 9.57, 11.26, 13.50, 16.10, 18.12 every confidence, horrifying utterance weighed so heavy on my heart absorbed into yours piece for peace Yahweh Yireh. Still. Still. I need only be still.
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I am beset by boorish, bloated, behemoths who broadside benevolent busboys by the boatload I do not pause to stop and stare With indifference and despair Do I circumnavigate an indifferent globe I am surrounded by salacious supplementals who stand silently still in streaming sunlight I do not return their glare I run my hands through thinning hair and wince at ignorance made flesh I am besieged by bracingly belligerent bumblers, The kind of verbal tumblers who fail to jump through hoops, These self-proclaimed acrobats, put to shame by pussycats All too often follow circuitous routes these pitiful proletarian ponderers, as little more than wanderers On a plane that reaches no destination They do daily buy their ticket, but to me it's just not cricket For we are here and then we die, go to the ground not to the sky and now I lay me down to sleep, in a wooden box that wasn't cheap and all the while the bleating sheep hear no-one but themselves
0
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 6:46 PM UTC
shane-coakley
Creatures
I am beset by boorish, bloated, behemoths who broadside benevolent busboys by the boatload I do not pause to stop and stare With indifference and despair Do I circumnavigate an indifferent globe I am surrounded by salacious supplementals who stand silently still in streaming sunlight I do not return their glare I run my hands through thinning hair and wince at ignorance made flesh I am besieged by bracingly belligerent bumblers, The kind of verbal tumblers who fail to jump through hoops, These self-proclaimed acrobats, put to shame by pussycats All too often follow circuitous routes these pitiful proletarian ponderers, as little more than wanderers On a plane that reaches no destination They do daily buy their ticket, but to me it's just not cricket For we are here and then we die, go to the ground not to the sky and now I lay me down to sleep, in a wooden box that wasn't cheap and all the while the bleating sheep hear no-one but themselves
Continue reading...
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