"ceaselessness" poems - Hello Poetry

The rain has not ceased since it began its ceaselessness; a day I cannot now remember, though it was only six ago. Earth and sky hold mutual watership, Either general is down and gray. But held in the eyes that hold – the beauty of Beholder bold – is a prettier time of day. A time I do wish would stay. I have not writ so many words that none more can be written of this picture's higher worth to me like spoken love from the mouth of God. Around on the horse of nature's sorrow, the world and I are to be sent.

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Jan 5, 2012

Jan 5, 2012 at 10:10 PM UTC

judson-shastri

Monsoon

The rain has not ceased since it began its ceaselessness; a day I cannot now remember, though it was only six ago. Earth and sky hold mutual watership, Either general is down and gray. But held in the eyes that hold – the beauty of Beholder bold – is a prettier time of day. A time I do wish would stay. I have not writ so many words that none more can be written of this picture's higher worth to me like spoken love from the mouth of God. Around on the horse of nature's sorrow, the world and I are to be sent.

17

sometimes, The time it takes to curate a reality Where The eyes of a hostile reflection Don't contribute to, but consume- the moment's prison of littleness... Is it not possible? To escape eternity's hour's ceaselessness? Hope, is too short; we perpetuate- it takes shape. we preform, then placate.

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Jul 16, 2024

Jul 16, 2024 at 8:00 AM UTC

Hardwire

we perpetuate- it takes shape. we preform, then placate.

sometimes, The time it takes to curate a reality Where The eyes of a hostile reflection Don't contribute to, but consume- the moment's prison of littleness... Is it not possible? To escape eternity's hour's ceaselessness? Hope, is too short; we perpetuate- it takes shape. we preform, then placate.

15

Dressed in the tatters of her latest mistake she will tiptoe into your life like a passing thought. She will offer some token of herself while collecting the emotions which tumble careless from your lips to nourish the leanness of her soul. She will pour herself into you and like gasoline ignite your smoldering loneliness, and warmed by that heady inferno she explains that she long ago traded everything constant for a frantic ceaselessness and a freedom borne of detachment. Now her flesh is made of smoke and shadows that pass over your senses but cannot be held. For weightless as she is, a passing breeze might carry her away. So though you stand before her naked as a smile, anchored to the very earth with promises, you are not surprised to find she has shrugged off the hopes that you draped so carefully across her shoulders and tiptoed out of your life, for she was never yours, but only her own.

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Sep 19, 2012

Sep 19, 2012 at 1:45 AM UTC

asha-ryder

Tiptoe

Dressed in the tatters of her latest mistake she will tiptoe into your life like a passing thought. She will offer some token of herself while collecting the emotions which tumble careless from your lips to nourish the leanness of her soul. She will pour herself into you and like gasoline ignite your smoldering loneliness, and warmed by that heady inferno she explains that she long ago traded everything constant for a frantic ceaselessness and a freedom borne of detachment. Now her flesh is made of smoke and shadows that pass over your senses but cannot be held. For weightless as she is, a passing breeze might carry her away. So though you stand before her naked as a smile, anchored to the very earth with promises, you are not surprised to find she has shrugged off the hopes that you draped so carefully across her shoulders and tiptoed out of your life, for she was never yours, but only her own.

21

chaotic impulses lead to irregular rhythm your sun dances over head and aching skeletons rattle their bones, drinking bottomless cups of sand swept up with the dry wind into their eyes and garments that rot and rag about their femurs as they smile dangerously and wink chaotic impulses lead to irregular rhythm a small brook turns into a fierce demon sweeping eddies full of names into its depths and the meek grizzlies paw at the rotting bits of fish left on the shore who gulp in deadly heaps of air for their water-ridden lungs chaotic impulses lead to irregular rhythm leaving an abandoned shock of metal as a refuge for the lonely and frostbitten potatoes are the only accompaniment to twenty five pounds of rice and a lean frame hiding huddled in a mass of snow lay all of the accused chaotic impulses lead to irregular rhythm as thick steel drives through flesh and boe grinding rubber against gravel; metal against metal and screeching high-siren pitches nonstop day and night boring into your skull with the urgency and ceaselessness of a hungry wolf who scares off the weak and the poor, the hungry and the searching; who became one chaotic impulses lead to irregular rhythm and those strange and lonely souls scared off by the fierceness and emptiness of corporations and concrete artists flee into the fierce emptiness of the wilds instead sparing one hardship for the other searching for a fullfilment not found in a box and an empty space that can only be filled by invisible wings chaotic impulses lead to irregular rhythm a frantic dance in a great big monastery the lunatic portrays a Zen within his twitch to layer understanding beneath Zen beneath lunacy with his mad fervor he becomes great and understands real truth - in his own way - and then dies

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Aug 1, 2012

Aug 1, 2012 at 7:12 PM UTC

sequoia-c

Wanderlust (Part 1)

chaotic impulses lead to irregular rhythm your sun dances over head and aching skeletons rattle their bones, drinking bottomless cups of sand swept up with the dry wind into their eyes and garments that rot and rag about their femurs as they smile dangerously and wink chaotic impulses lead to irregular rhythm a small brook turns into a fierce demon sweeping eddies full of names into its depths and the meek grizzlies paw at the rotting bits of fish left on the shore who gulp in deadly heaps of air for their water-ridden lungs chaotic impulses lead to irregular rhythm leaving an abandoned shock of metal as a refuge for the lonely and frostbitten potatoes are the only accompaniment to twenty five pounds of rice and a lean frame hiding huddled in a mass of snow lay all of the accused chaotic impulses lead to irregular rhythm as thick steel drives through flesh and boe grinding rubber against gravel; metal against metal and screeching high-siren pitches nonstop day and night boring into your skull with the urgency and ceaselessness of a hungry wolf who scares off the weak and the poor, the hungry and the searching; who became one chaotic impulses lead to irregular rhythm and those strange and lonely souls scared off by the fierceness and emptiness of corporations and concrete artists flee into the fierce emptiness of the wilds instead sparing one hardship for the other searching for a fullfilment not found in a box and an empty space that can only be filled by invisible wings chaotic impulses lead to irregular rhythm a frantic dance in a great big monastery the lunatic portrays a Zen within his twitch to layer understanding beneath Zen beneath lunacy with his mad fervor he becomes great and understands real truth - in his own way - and then dies

43

torn through spectral dances like light from a prism situated in darkness like a burning star defined in polar cradles fused light-borne blackness receptively penetrating entering the ****** burning with a friction seeing out beyond alpha, dash, omega dashing, dashing, gone the eternal ceaselessness holding like the past pulling like the future exploding into now never ending fluctuants of holy passions infinite space is a vacuum space is a furnace

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Mar 10, 2014

Mar 10, 2014 at 5:32 PM UTC

christopher-wallace

space is a furnace

torn through spectral dances like light from a prism situated in darkness like a burning star defined in polar cradles fused light-borne blackness receptively penetrating entering the ****** burning with a friction seeing out beyond alpha, dash, omega dashing, dashing, gone the eternal ceaselessness holding like the past pulling like the future exploding into now never ending fluctuants of holy passions infinite space is a vacuum space is a furnace

20

*the sky is a warm blanket, yet we are inconsolable. wrapped and untouchable, cloaked in isolation desolation; this is not about crying anymore. this is not about blood. this is about ragged breaths, open pores, mudstains. muddied legs wrapped up in pink and white and flowered sheets. this is about needing more. this is about the hopelessness of the search, despite and because of the ceaselessness of the fight. We will not be falling down anymore, though our limbs turn jelly: this is about iron spines. This isn't about eyes. This isn't about weakness. This is about outshining the sun, about the unflinching-- not wincing in the face of the truth. This is not about invincibility: this is about invulnerability.*

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Mar 23, 2015

Mar 23, 2015 at 7:24 AM UTC

babyangel

invalesco

*the sky is a warm blanket, yet we are inconsolable. wrapped and untouchable, cloaked in isolation desolation; this is not about crying anymore. this is not about blood. this is about ragged breaths, open pores, mudstains. muddied legs wrapped up in pink and white and flowered sheets. this is about needing more. this is about the hopelessness of the search, despite and because of the ceaselessness of the fight. We will not be falling down anymore, though our limbs turn jelly: this is about iron spines. This isn't about eyes. This isn't about weakness. This is about outshining the sun, about the unflinching-- not wincing in the face of the truth. This is not about invincibility: this is about invulnerability.*

22

I get lost in you Its true Drifting through your multitudes Trailing fingers lightly, tenderly along walls in the shadowy labrythinth Of your mind memorizing the textures Nearer your heart ; Dancing in your darkness to The heat and thrum of your passions. Drifting along within you, like your own blood You are endless, infinite. This ceaselessness intrigues me And I am compelled by each new turn to stay a bit longer, wander a bit farther unfolding myself in the discovery of you. But I am weary And I long for a place to rest.

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Mar 19, 2013

Mar 19, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC

crystal-rondeaux

Lost

I get lost in you Its true Drifting through your multitudes Trailing fingers lightly, tenderly along walls in the shadowy labrythinth Of your mind memorizing the textures Nearer your heart ; Dancing in your darkness to The heat and thrum of your passions. Drifting along within you, like your own blood You are endless, infinite. This ceaselessness intrigues me And I am compelled by each new turn to stay a bit longer, wander a bit farther unfolding myself in the discovery of you. But I am weary And I long for a place to rest.

18

We danced t o g e t h e r but alone Hollow, dried up love Without heartbeat keeping rhythm Instruments left unplugged. The crowd buzzed around us Through us A twirling blur you’d miss if you blinked Faint echoes of substance. We danced with fear of culmination Eternally shuffling feet Preferring exhaustion over truth As our minds floated far away. The world spun around us Oblivious to us Stubborn ceaselessness A corpse love refusing to rest. We danced t o g e t h e r but alone Slowly Drift ing aw a y When I accepted that Together is lonely, I released his hand. The crowd buzzed around us And he dissolved into it Broken from this silent reverie I heard the strumming of a guitar. And danced alone, but together.

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May 3, 2018

May 3, 2018 at 8:56 PM UTC

lainaliz

Corpse love

We danced t o g e t h e r but alone Hollow, dried up love Without heartbeat keeping rhythm Instruments left unplugged. The crowd buzzed around us Through us A twirling blur you’d miss if you blinked Faint echoes of substance. We danced with fear of culmination Eternally shuffling feet Preferring exhaustion over truth As our minds floated far away. The world spun around us Oblivious to us Stubborn ceaselessness A corpse love refusing to rest. We danced t o g e t h e r but alone Slowly Drift ing aw a y When I accepted that Together is lonely, I released his hand. The crowd buzzed around us And he dissolved into it Broken from this silent reverie I heard the strumming of a guitar. And danced alone, but together.

31