"callusing" poems - Hello Poetry

A feeling of claustrophobia has begun to confine me. This swamp of ideas thickens inside me, the murky clay mud making each step twice as demanding as the last. The once clear flowing waters of my dreams seem to be crystallizing, clouding and freezing over, ceasing the stream of my escape. My brain is callusing over incarcerating me, forcing me to experience the hardening of my own being. A reaction inside halting my imagination and depriving me of the ability to call out for help. These thoughts and words I evacuate onto this page only act as a catalyst speeding the process of my inevitable silence. There will come a time when the swamps have solidified, and the waters of my dreams become frozen clouded crystals trapped in place. My brain will develop into a callous, rendering my mind mute, I can feel this metamorphosis materializing yet there is nothing I can do to stop it, the development has already begun, all I can do is wait until a feeling of... A feeling of claustrophobia has begun to confine me.

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Dec 27, 2014

Dec 27, 2014 at 2:54 AM UTC

K-T-

A Feeling Of Claustrophobia.

A feeling of claustrophobia has begun to confine me. This swamp of ideas thickens inside me, the murky clay mud making each step twice as demanding as the last. The once clear flowing waters of my dreams seem to be crystallizing, clouding and freezing over, ceasing the stream of my escape. My brain is callusing over incarcerating me, forcing me to experience the hardening of my own being. A reaction inside halting my imagination and depriving me of the ability to call out for help. These thoughts and words I evacuate onto this page only act as a catalyst speeding the process of my inevitable silence. There will come a time when the swamps have solidified, and the waters of my dreams become frozen clouded crystals trapped in place. My brain will develop into a callous, rendering my mind mute, I can feel this metamorphosis materializing yet there is nothing I can do to stop it, the development has already begun, all I can do is wait until a feeling of... A feeling of claustrophobia has begun to confine me.

3

"It was never supposed to be this way," she whispered With tears in her eyes, Thinking the unthinkable. He enveloped her in his love completely, Completely callusing unrequited love's blister. His heart grew more fond of her with each waking minute He spent cradling her thoughts, Thinking the unthinkable. He was pushing his own love's limit. "Let's break the rules." They agreed to endure love, Thinking the unthinkable. His past had missed her chance, and hers missed his, But somehow, someway, These two, thinking the unthinkable, Had found a new drunken love that caused speech to slur.

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Aug 13, 2016

Aug 13, 2016 at 1:29 PM UTC

kaydelaa

Thinking the Unthinkable

"It was never supposed to be this way," she whispered With tears in her eyes, Thinking the unthinkable. He enveloped her in his love completely, Completely callusing unrequited love's blister. His heart grew more fond of her with each waking minute He spent cradling her thoughts, Thinking the unthinkable. He was pushing his own love's limit. "Let's break the rules." They agreed to endure love, Thinking the unthinkable. His past had missed her chance, and hers missed his, But somehow, someway, These two, thinking the unthinkable, Had found a new drunken love that caused speech to slur.

16

Language as you like. Be it in the proverbial sentence as I do demonstrate or in the slow callusing of the slow scrape of the slow, trudging hand over paper--line by line by lonely lonely line-- bye-- bye-- bye-- Dignants’ confabulation with the legal writ may render profit but of what avail when they cannot revel. Rebel: These days, we do not trrrrrill our words or fascinate on the decomposition of lane-goo-age. Oneway-coyish-maturation. Be Flame Be Boy Be Ant I am die gene err rat

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Aug 29, 2014

Aug 29, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC

ryan-spencer

Language as you like

Language as you like. Be it in the proverbial sentence as I do demonstrate or in the slow callusing of the slow scrape of the slow, trudging hand over paper--line by line by lonely lonely line-- bye-- bye-- bye-- Dignants’ confabulation with the legal writ may render profit but of what avail when they cannot revel. Rebel: These days, we do not trrrrrill our words or fascinate on the decomposition of lane-goo-age. Oneway-coyish-maturation. Be Flame Be Boy Be Ant I am die gene err rat

24

you told me to remember tsuki moon we swam in a sea of green clippings drank the dew gulped it generously letting it fill our lungs sinking into the tub of moonlight bathing bodies before callusing our feet we walked until our soles bled from jagged prairies of gravel and our souls were weary about continuation of something words don't do justice oh my, to be under that beloved tsuki

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Sep 9, 2013

Sep 9, 2013 at 8:37 PM UTC

marsha-lynn

月影

you told me to remember tsuki moon we swam in a sea of green clippings drank the dew gulped it generously letting it fill our lungs sinking into the tub of moonlight bathing bodies before callusing our feet we walked until our soles bled from jagged prairies of gravel and our souls were weary about continuation of something words don't do justice oh my, to be under that beloved tsuki

20

The Great Wall of China is a series of fortifications made of stone, brick, tamped earth, wood, and other materials, some of which include: chips of cloven hooves, beating in rhythm with a grand conqueror on high, brethren united in one charge; sweat of a migrant, summertime rain cooling between his shoulder blades, stones callusing fingers; blood of one and many terracotta men, giving their lives for God and king; new silk chewed up by moths; jade and chrysanthemum, a nobleman’s wife’s treasury; sun and wind, a flood, grace of a new emperor - my life, reaching backwards into pockets of rice fields, scholars’ tables, great-grandmother’s childhood castle, everything I know.

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Apr 26, 2018

Apr 26, 2018 at 1:19 AM UTC

fullsun

homeland

The Great Wall of China is a series of fortifications made of stone, brick, tamped earth, wood, and other materials, some of which include: chips of cloven hooves, beating in rhythm with a grand conqueror on high, brethren united in one charge; sweat of a migrant, summertime rain cooling between his shoulder blades, stones callusing fingers; blood of one and many terracotta men, giving their lives for God and king; new silk chewed up by moths; jade and chrysanthemum, a nobleman’s wife’s treasury; sun and wind, a flood, grace of a new emperor - my life, reaching backwards into pockets of rice fields, scholars’ tables, great-grandmother’s childhood castle, everything I know.

1

When I'm with you I'm in a dream From which I cannot Will not Wake When I'm with you I barely remember a time When I could not see Our future Because I can see The callusing of your palms Two tear duct lashes Summer then Fall We aren't known for A connection that Calls for the movie magic First kiss at my doorstep But who needs that When my hand fits so Precisely in your jacket Pocket? My face on your shoulder: "I can feel your smile" Wet eyes Green eyes Red lightening bolts Across white Can't disguise A connection so Right I can't help but Smile and thank god In the isle of a bookstore Maybe That I have found My meant-to-be The one I've chosen And have been chosen by Because After all these years My hands in your hands Finally we're here When I'm with you I feel it is impossible to ever feel alone again Enmeshed legs Arms Chest to chest Soul crunch And it's not enough To dissolve into you Trying to figure out how To consume even more Short of Winifred Sanderson- ing Your life force's electric Blue blanket cloud Through deliberate Lip sips A mellifluous whisper: "How is this even possible" Possible

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Feb 25, 2017

Feb 25, 2017 at 2:06 PM UTC

vince-chultheg

Possible

When I'm with you I'm in a dream From which I cannot Will not Wake When I'm with you I barely remember a time When I could not see Our future Because I can see The callusing of your palms Two tear duct lashes Summer then Fall We aren't known for A connection that Calls for the movie magic First kiss at my doorstep But who needs that When my hand fits so Precisely in your jacket Pocket? My face on your shoulder: "I can feel your smile" Wet eyes Green eyes Red lightening bolts Across white Can't disguise A connection so Right I can't help but Smile and thank god In the isle of a bookstore Maybe That I have found My meant-to-be The one I've chosen And have been chosen by Because After all these years My hands in your hands Finally we're here When I'm with you I feel it is impossible to ever feel alone again Enmeshed legs Arms Chest to chest Soul crunch And it's not enough To dissolve into you Trying to figure out how To consume even more Short of Winifred Sanderson- ing Your life force's electric Blue blanket cloud Through deliberate Lip sips A mellifluous whisper: "How is this even possible" Possible

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