"caducity" poems - Hello Poetry

euphoric and proud, we danced like the children we were supposed to be, brushing pencil shavings off our desks like our mothers did to our hair. forming daisy chains like dignified humans. The Sun beams on our faces as if it was designed to highlight our youth. *A punch in the gut, a knife drawn to the heart, the inability to entangle a simple breath. You lift the crease of your face up to seem gracious. You lift your chest up to see if it will split, like the carcass of a rabbit that didn't quite decay underneath all that snow. Your pulse softens like the tiny pieces of eraser entangled with faded words. Your chest takes longer to inhale and only you and everyone else around you knows whats coming.* Cracked lips was the worst that we ever suffered. Your breath is still warm and it still comforts the animals that surround your mouth Lucy is talking about how her father fed her pigs and then slaughtered them. I think to myself, this is strange behavior. I know that your calloused fingertips caught on the cotton of her sleeves when you finally reached caducity. They told be that it was slow and pain free, and usually the mouth will taste of salt. That day was when the alloy of the sky grew to meet with the clouds, where salt loved to hide away. Your soon-to-be corpse was finally concluded, and I forgot to say goodbye.

0

Apr 20, 2015

Apr 20, 2015 at 4:21 PM UTC

abbie-crawford

Salt

euphoric and proud, we danced like the children we were supposed to be, brushing pencil shavings off our desks like our mothers did to our hair. forming daisy chains like dignified humans. The Sun beams on our faces as if it was designed to highlight our youth. *A punch in the gut, a knife drawn to the heart, the inability to entangle a simple breath. You lift the crease of your face up to seem gracious. You lift your chest up to see if it will split, like the carcass of a rabbit that didn't quite decay underneath all that snow. Your pulse softens like the tiny pieces of eraser entangled with faded words. Your chest takes longer to inhale and only you and everyone else around you knows whats coming.* Cracked lips was the worst that we ever suffered. Your breath is still warm and it still comforts the animals that surround your mouth Lucy is talking about how her father fed her pigs and then slaughtered them. I think to myself, this is strange behavior. I know that your calloused fingertips caught on the cotton of her sleeves when you finally reached caducity. They told be that it was slow and pain free, and usually the mouth will taste of salt. That day was when the alloy of the sky grew to meet with the clouds, where salt loved to hide away. Your soon-to-be corpse was finally concluded, and I forgot to say goodbye.

14

*I was once a naive Today I'm a warrior I walked in the battlefield unarmed Today I crawl with broken barrier I was once a mooncalf I lend my sword to another Said the scabbard was lost I, the new scabbard was to be I was once a dancer Today I'm the theatre I was the rhythmic flute Today I cry on my own melody I was once the sun Today I'm not even the moon To all planets I sent light Today I'm them, black skies I was once the caducity Today I'm the equestrian Before I fell off the saddle Now I pull back the reins*

0

Jul 12, 2015

Jul 12, 2015 at 6:30 AM UTC

sillage

Obsolete

*I was once a naive Today I'm a warrior I walked in the battlefield unarmed Today I crawl with broken barrier I was once a mooncalf I lend my sword to another Said the scabbard was lost I, the new scabbard was to be I was once a dancer Today I'm the theatre I was the rhythmic flute Today I cry on my own melody I was once the sun Today I'm not even the moon To all planets I sent light Today I'm them, black skies I was once the caducity Today I'm the equestrian Before I fell off the saddle Now I pull back the reins*

20

The best mornings are made up of waking up to new horizons abroad, caducity not in my thought, smell of the fresh day — as pure as petrichor; the day born as richer, ‘tis a new tune in embouchure between past and future.

0

Jun 12, 2020

Jun 12, 2020 at 11:13 PM UTC

senthil_aj

Best mornings are made up of

The best mornings are made up of waking up to new horizons abroad, caducity not in my thought, smell of the fresh day — as pure as petrichor; the day born as richer, ‘tis a new tune in embouchure between past and future.

8

I have, as of yet, avoided caducuty. Emotionally, creatively, I feel younger, not older. Is it true that the older we get, the more wisdom we accrue? It seems that way to me. My scope is broader, my vision paradoxically keener, my understanding deeper, my tolerance for intolerance virtually extinct. I have never been able to brook unkindness, cruelty in any of its manifold manifestations. The notions of differences among members of the human race--e.g. degrees of social status, the poor and the wealthy, one IQ better than another--all and others are specious, bootless. We all are one. Our shared worth is within, not without. I have gotten wiser, not older. While my life has gotten longer, my patience for not knowing right from wrong is shorter. The years of my living that remain will be like dances of insight and joy, not lugubrious ones. I shall live them in the sunshine of caring and sharing. Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

0

Sep 17, 2020

Sep 17, 2020 at 11:32 AM UTC

tod-howard-hawks

CADUCITY

I have, as of yet, avoided caducuty. Emotionally, creatively, I feel younger, not older. Is it true that the older we get, the more wisdom we accrue? It seems that way to me. My scope is broader, my vision paradoxically keener, my understanding deeper, my tolerance for intolerance virtually extinct. I have never been able to brook unkindness, cruelty in any of its manifold manifestations. The notions of differences among members of the human race--e.g. degrees of social status, the poor and the wealthy, one IQ better than another--all and others are specious, bootless. We all are one. Our shared worth is within, not without. I have gotten wiser, not older. While my life has gotten longer, my patience for not knowing right from wrong is shorter. The years of my living that remain will be like dances of insight and joy, not lugubrious ones. I shall live them in the sunshine of caring and sharing. Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

25

There is nothing better than your eyes looking like the moonlight under the sonata The feeling of ecstasy running through your very veins Everything is content and at ease with our nature Oh old crooked piano, shining through your very eyes, rolling at the peak - the nature Tilting and rolling our heads with every quiver and quaver Shaking out salt through our pores Hearing every movement, feeling it assault you with dopamine and the interminable display of serotonin. If I were to die, right at this very moment I'd allow caducity to threaten me with its structure, and to touch every part of me with its sweetness. Not only that but its every movement, every ****** every crescendo and i'd allow it to rock me back and forth soothing every bone and every follicle. I'd allow it to run right through me, until my ebullience is no longer. I shall be free.

0

Apr 4, 2016

Apr 4, 2016 at 7:18 PM UTC

abbie-crawford

caducity

There is nothing better than your eyes looking like the moonlight under the sonata The feeling of ecstasy running through your very veins Everything is content and at ease with our nature Oh old crooked piano, shining through your very eyes, rolling at the peak - the nature Tilting and rolling our heads with every quiver and quaver Shaking out salt through our pores Hearing every movement, feeling it assault you with dopamine and the interminable display of serotonin. If I were to die, right at this very moment I'd allow caducity to threaten me with its structure, and to touch every part of me with its sweetness. Not only that but its every movement, every ****** every crescendo and i'd allow it to rock me back and forth soothing every bone and every follicle. I'd allow it to run right through me, until my ebullience is no longer. I shall be free.

29