"chromatography" poems - Hello Poetry

The sun set behind brazen city towers The gradient color scheme reminiscent of candy chromatography in the third grade It's one of the heaviest yet fleeting forms of memory The kind that simmers at the bottom of your chest for an hour But a deep breath and a purpose pushes it out Nostalgic about nostalgia Wishful for some sentimentality No matter how trite, you'll feel it - you'll revel in it Conquered by the thought of a past worth reliving

0

Apr 22, 2021

Apr 22, 2021 at 11:22 PM UTC

piaia

Remembering

The sun set behind brazen city towers The gradient color scheme reminiscent of candy chromatography in the third grade It's one of the heaviest yet fleeting forms of memory The kind that simmers at the bottom of your chest for an hour But a deep breath and a purpose pushes it out Nostalgic about nostalgia Wishful for some sentimentality No matter how trite, you'll feel it - you'll revel in it Conquered by the thought of a past worth reliving

10

I focus on where the bones in my knees contact with one another They look like marrow filled plaster casts of birds bones Like the masts of bottled pirate ships, in my mind they swing and glue pulls up the surfaces of the wood as you tear the bones out like how you gut fishes There are sharp edges like the serrated edges of a shark tooth Small dips where I can now curl and negative spaces are left silently empty are neatly darkened Puddles of liquid velvet evaporate from underneath and leave the wooden surfaces speckled with sticky stringy lines of tiny alphabets, so tiny you can't tell if they come from our culture or our religion I'd like to tread in bleached white cotton socks and feel the white fill up with red These alphabets hooking onto the softened brittle fibres I'd wait hours until the excess ink fell away and revealed the spaces I'd let you place your hands between the ribboned surface, you could pull them apart, they would slide perfectly like a new key in a new padlock would twist,and I'd let you examine the utterances carefully I'd let you place your hands on my bare ribcage so you could feel with your rough fingertips the plaster cast version, the pulse of my wooden heartbeat, you could see how the alphabet confetti has saturated it I fold my arms and cup the spilling liquid red I would store it in glass test tubes to be frozen Then examine them under light as if the red were capable of chromatography I imagine the freezing only magnifies the frost grated into my heartbeat cocktail

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Dec 5, 2013

Dec 5, 2013 at 12:48 PM UTC

r-k-hodge

Plaster Cast

I focus on where the bones in my knees contact with one another They look like marrow filled plaster casts of birds bones Like the masts of bottled pirate ships, in my mind they swing and glue pulls up the surfaces of the wood as you tear the bones out like how you gut fishes There are sharp edges like the serrated edges of a shark tooth Small dips where I can now curl and negative spaces are left silently empty are neatly darkened Puddles of liquid velvet evaporate from underneath and leave the wooden surfaces speckled with sticky stringy lines of tiny alphabets, so tiny you can't tell if they come from our culture or our religion I'd like to tread in bleached white cotton socks and feel the white fill up with red These alphabets hooking onto the softened brittle fibres I'd wait hours until the excess ink fell away and revealed the spaces I'd let you place your hands between the ribboned surface, you could pull them apart, they would slide perfectly like a new key in a new padlock would twist,and I'd let you examine the utterances carefully I'd let you place your hands on my bare ribcage so you could feel with your rough fingertips the plaster cast version, the pulse of my wooden heartbeat, you could see how the alphabet confetti has saturated it I fold my arms and cup the spilling liquid red I would store it in glass test tubes to be frozen Then examine them under light as if the red were capable of chromatography I imagine the freezing only magnifies the frost grated into my heartbeat cocktail

16

here.. counting the rhythym of passing heartbeats chasing fleeting car seats. everything r e d drifting...

0

Mar 19, 2019

Mar 19, 2019 at 6:43 AM UTC

fake_ian--G1100

chromatography

here.. counting the rhythym of passing heartbeats chasing fleeting car seats. everything r e d drifting...

13

The glass you melted and then froze in my bloodstream finally emptied out. It peeled away fragments of fleshy tubing as it did so, like children's stickers The same way glue melts on top of white wood gloss paint over a summer 'Well Done's become slurred the excess stomach acid separated it apart like chromatography I shut my eyes and you are the colour of petrol rainbows a scent so distinct yet chameleon I can still smell the feelings invisible but stiffened into my lace underwear never have I let something sit so long at the bottom of my laundry basket it pretends to be a cradle light shears through it like church stained glass windows a cheap alternative to the lead filled stuff you are used to dress making scissors sit at the bottom of a box I ought to have courage to crunch through the wire caging. Instead. All I am able to clasp is balloon helium.

0

Jun 22, 2014

Jun 22, 2014 at 3:11 PM UTC

r-k-hodge

Laundry Basket

The glass you melted and then froze in my bloodstream finally emptied out. It peeled away fragments of fleshy tubing as it did so, like children's stickers The same way glue melts on top of white wood gloss paint over a summer 'Well Done's become slurred the excess stomach acid separated it apart like chromatography I shut my eyes and you are the colour of petrol rainbows a scent so distinct yet chameleon I can still smell the feelings invisible but stiffened into my lace underwear never have I let something sit so long at the bottom of my laundry basket it pretends to be a cradle light shears through it like church stained glass windows a cheap alternative to the lead filled stuff you are used to dress making scissors sit at the bottom of a box I ought to have courage to crunch through the wire caging. Instead. All I am able to clasp is balloon helium.

17

It took a long while for you to find me through our treasure trove. Look for me, and an acquisition it was, my heart treaded to your tarantella. Through the white desert sandy blankets and the spilled seas, you came to search for me. Closets, Hidden Hatches, Attics, I told you to find me, come protect me. Despite the tedious counting, you told me you were coming. I questioned if you had surrendered to your fear of fear, so you could win one battle against these chromosomes. I thought I’d be lost forever, that you’d be lost forever. Marco to the Polo, crimson tie-dye on your childish shirt, Colors wanting to collide, to bond but only, Stuck between two intersecting ways of a chromatography-inked maze. I yelled, “Over here!” to help you, only to confuse you with the echoes drumming in your ears. I was paralyzed in time, tick to the tock, dusk to dawn. Waiting – hinting you by ruckuses, pots and pans, making it easier for you, from my love for you. Only until you reached my hiding spot, your face became blank, striking with fear in your soft cheeks, I had realized you weren’t looking for me, in a childish game: You were looking for a hiding spot of your own. - Emilyn Nguyen

0

Feb 19, 2014

Feb 19, 2014 at 7:09 PM UTC

emilyn-nguyen

Hide And Seek

It took a long while for you to find me through our treasure trove. Look for me, and an acquisition it was, my heart treaded to your tarantella. Through the white desert sandy blankets and the spilled seas, you came to search for me. Closets, Hidden Hatches, Attics, I told you to find me, come protect me. Despite the tedious counting, you told me you were coming. I questioned if you had surrendered to your fear of fear, so you could win one battle against these chromosomes. I thought I’d be lost forever, that you’d be lost forever. Marco to the Polo, crimson tie-dye on your childish shirt, Colors wanting to collide, to bond but only, Stuck between two intersecting ways of a chromatography-inked maze. I yelled, “Over here!” to help you, only to confuse you with the echoes drumming in your ears. I was paralyzed in time, tick to the tock, dusk to dawn. Waiting – hinting you by ruckuses, pots and pans, making it easier for you, from my love for you. Only until you reached my hiding spot, your face became blank, striking with fear in your soft cheeks, I had realized you weren’t looking for me, in a childish game: You were looking for a hiding spot of your own. - Emilyn Nguyen

26

As I sit and sip a glass of wine, I think about all the mistakes I've made, Loving you is one of them, Deprivation I felt when you left, Destined were we for each other, Rapturing was your soul, Full of lustre and captivation, Drawing me closer to yourself, Where, vague to me was wtitten on your forehead, beware, Zeus and poseidon weren't even that strong to set us part, Metallurgy and chromatography were weaker than I thought, Our lives together shone, The radiance and heart amidst our relationship was at spark, Why'd you go and vandalize what once we fought for? I was mortified by society from that day on, Promising to myself I'd never fall, Destructing all chemistry to keep at halt, Never have I moved on from that day on, Never will I even ponder upon that thought.

0

Oct 27, 2015

Oct 27, 2015 at 8:29 PM UTC

arfah-afaqi-zia

Untitled

As I sit and sip a glass of wine, I think about all the mistakes I've made, Loving you is one of them, Deprivation I felt when you left, Destined were we for each other, Rapturing was your soul, Full of lustre and captivation, Drawing me closer to yourself, Where, vague to me was wtitten on your forehead, beware, Zeus and poseidon weren't even that strong to set us part, Metallurgy and chromatography were weaker than I thought, Our lives together shone, The radiance and heart amidst our relationship was at spark, Why'd you go and vandalize what once we fought for? I was mortified by society from that day on, Promising to myself I'd never fall, Destructing all chemistry to keep at halt, Never have I moved on from that day on, Never will I even ponder upon that thought.

19