"chrysalism" poems - Hello Poetry

The streets are clear, we're hydrophobic Hoods propped by hats and socks pulled high; The rain brings peace to the agoraphobic Puddles form moats and clouds fill the sky. Splash, droplets hit the window, chauffeured by the gale outside. Squint your eyes and flash back boats tilt starboard, with the tide. The captain shouts to the decks, paranoid 'Clear the decks and brace for impact' Without turbulence we are disenfranchised Boredom becomes us when we're boring. Shake it off and stare at the dot to dot the residual carving of water as it slides Another droplet falls beside it, parallel it aligns, growling thunder overhead. Without stirring we are robotic workforces Without awaking we are left inside The constructs created for us, by corporate- conglomerate elitist-psychopaths. Two drops of water on the window simmer red with burning anger. Crash lightening sears the sky Rage becomes you, girders melt. The starry night undercurrent, flings us backwards, never up, as democracies which seek to serve sink into a sea of stocks and shares, the wall street journal sits atop the captains lobby, economies were meant to tumble as the working classes fumble for bread, men in suits gaggle and toast to the millions they left for dead. Resistance is futile, when eighty-five of the richest suit owners sit on currency that was meant for the three point five billion who aren’t driven by gluttony.

0

Nov 7, 2014

Nov 7, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC

zacolian

Chrysalism

The streets are clear, we're hydrophobic Hoods propped by hats and socks pulled high; The rain brings peace to the agoraphobic Puddles form moats and clouds fill the sky. Splash, droplets hit the window, chauffeured by the gale outside. Squint your eyes and flash back boats tilt starboard, with the tide. The captain shouts to the decks, paranoid 'Clear the decks and brace for impact' Without turbulence we are disenfranchised Boredom becomes us when we're boring. Shake it off and stare at the dot to dot the residual carving of water as it slides Another droplet falls beside it, parallel it aligns, growling thunder overhead. Without stirring we are robotic workforces Without awaking we are left inside The constructs created for us, by corporate- conglomerate elitist-psychopaths. Two drops of water on the window simmer red with burning anger. Crash lightening sears the sky Rage becomes you, girders melt. The starry night undercurrent, flings us backwards, never up, as democracies which seek to serve sink into a sea of stocks and shares, the wall street journal sits atop the captains lobby, economies were meant to tumble as the working classes fumble for bread, men in suits gaggle and toast to the millions they left for dead. Resistance is futile, when eighty-five of the richest suit owners sit on currency that was meant for the three point five billion who aren’t driven by gluttony.

36

In the aftermath, I lay across my adolescent comforter in the faded spot, hoping to soak up any remnants of a sun that refuses to show its face today. Raindrops stick to my window, spattered from juvenile tyranny, born out of temperamental tempests that literally manifest from nowhere. These are the tears I wish I could cry, for even the sky prays it could hide from the tumult.

0

Jan 10, 2016

Jan 10, 2016 at 5:10 PM UTC

b-wynn

*Chrysalism*

In the aftermath, I lay across my adolescent comforter in the faded spot, hoping to soak up any remnants of a sun that refuses to show its face today. Raindrops stick to my window, spattered from juvenile tyranny, born out of temperamental tempests that literally manifest from nowhere. These are the tears I wish I could cry, for even the sky prays it could hide from the tumult.

11

Hiding from a rainstorm is supposed to be tranquil : the patter of rain... the rumble of harmless thunder... watching the storm, but never feeling it... Just raindrops on windows, with you safe inside. But what if that thunder is the breaking of a friend's heart? The lightning, the slashing of her dreams? Her storm is raging within a snow globe… From the outside, beautiful and perfect... Unless you know the truth. Thank God for that glassy protection, right? Except... For all your good intentions... And best efforts... And wishful thinking... All you can do is stay by her side until her world settles. What if that storm was a torrent of bullets, Tearing her to pieces? You can only watch, Untouchable behind bulletproof glass... I mean, at least you're safe, right? … But doesn't it hurt you to witness it Without being able to intervene? What if that rain is made of salty tears? Heartaches and losses and sorrow... You can try... and be there for her... and phone and listen... and offer every ounce of your comfort... But no matter what you do... God still controls the weather. I mean, at least it isn't your own suffering. … But that's just it, isn't it? There's no doorway through a wall of glass. See, The very best part of chrysalism Is that you're hiding on the inside Within your own peaceful world. The worst? You can't swap places.

0

Mar 25, 2019

Mar 25, 2019 at 9:43 AM UTC

anastasia-lisieux

Chrysalism

Hiding from a rainstorm is supposed to be tranquil : the patter of rain... the rumble of harmless thunder... watching the storm, but never feeling it... Just raindrops on windows, with you safe inside. But what if that thunder is the breaking of a friend's heart? The lightning, the slashing of her dreams? Her storm is raging within a snow globe… From the outside, beautiful and perfect... Unless you know the truth. Thank God for that glassy protection, right? Except... For all your good intentions... And best efforts... And wishful thinking... All you can do is stay by her side until her world settles. What if that storm was a torrent of bullets, Tearing her to pieces? You can only watch, Untouchable behind bulletproof glass... I mean, at least you're safe, right? … But doesn't it hurt you to witness it Without being able to intervene? What if that rain is made of salty tears? Heartaches and losses and sorrow... You can try... and be there for her... and phone and listen... and offer every ounce of your comfort... But no matter what you do... God still controls the weather. I mean, at least it isn't your own suffering. … But that's just it, isn't it? There's no doorway through a wall of glass. See, The very best part of chrysalism Is that you're hiding on the inside Within your own peaceful world. The worst? You can't swap places.

42

*Sonder beings pass me by. A universe lived within each eye. Chrysalism gives me life, shut away in my own mind, a loner is how I self describe.*

0

Mar 8, 2016

Mar 8, 2016 at 8:01 PM UTC

ryan-writes-poetry

8:01 PM 3/8/16

*Sonder beings pass me by. A universe lived within each eye. Chrysalism gives me life, shut away in my own mind, a loner is how I self describe.*

5

felt the warmth inside while the cold rain came

0

Jul 10, 2015

Jul 10, 2015 at 7:33 AM UTC

dan-mcgowan

Chrysalism [10W]

felt the warmth inside while the cold rain came

1

Chrysalism is defined as the feeling associated with being inside Cozy and warm through a rough thunderstorm And that sensation is a pleasure that's hard to rival Maybe I'm going through an extreme bout with that emotion Because I've been inside so long i could probably compare notes with Noah about the creatures in a rain filled ocean. But with the motions and tide of life and the things I've been through Most of which dear friends I've told to you Im living with my demons, and if i can make it so can you Break through your chrysalis' I'll be cheering and praying for you

0

Jan 3, 2017

Jan 3, 2017 at 2:02 PM UTC

neroameealucard

Chrysalism

Chrysalism is defined as the feeling associated with being inside Cozy and warm through a rough thunderstorm And that sensation is a pleasure that's hard to rival Maybe I'm going through an extreme bout with that emotion Because I've been inside so long i could probably compare notes with Noah about the creatures in a rain filled ocean. But with the motions and tide of life and the things I've been through Most of which dear friends I've told to you Im living with my demons, and if i can make it so can you Break through your chrysalis' I'll be cheering and praying for you

9

Drip. Drip. Boom. When I look out my rain plastered window. I see the storm is approaching the meadow. Drip. Drip. Boom. I lay back on my bed and listen. I hear the window and the rain kissing. I imagine how the sunlit meadow glistens. Drip. Drip. Boom. My heart starts to flutter. When I hear the proud thunder. My room lights up in color. As the lightning strikes another. Drip. Drip. Boom. All of my words drown in the noise. While my mind is risen and poise. Like me, sometimes, the storm is powerful and destroys. Drip. Drip. Boom. When the morning comes near. Everything is bright and clear.

0

Nov 11, 2015

Nov 11, 2015 at 3:22 PM UTC

kaitlyn-goode

Chrysalism

Drip. Drip. Boom. When I look out my rain plastered window. I see the storm is approaching the meadow. Drip. Drip. Boom. I lay back on my bed and listen. I hear the window and the rain kissing. I imagine how the sunlit meadow glistens. Drip. Drip. Boom. My heart starts to flutter. When I hear the proud thunder. My room lights up in color. As the lightning strikes another. Drip. Drip. Boom. All of my words drown in the noise. While my mind is risen and poise. Like me, sometimes, the storm is powerful and destroys. Drip. Drip. Boom. When the morning comes near. Everything is bright and clear.

29

Rain on windows Is seeing something... Hearing something... Knowing it has happened... But it doesn't touch you. So how can you feel it? Should you feel it streak down your face? Or is that just a hallucination? Something you want to feel, but shouldn't? For it is not a thing you want to be a part of. But still, it's one you really just want To trade, that is. So they might take your place In the chrysalism of detachment.

0

Nov 20, 2018

Nov 20, 2018 at 4:09 AM UTC

anastasia-lisieux

Chrysalism

Rain on windows Is seeing something... Hearing something... Knowing it has happened... But it doesn't touch you. So how can you feel it? Should you feel it streak down your face? Or is that just a hallucination? Something you want to feel, but shouldn't? For it is not a thing you want to be a part of. But still, it's one you really just want To trade, that is. So they might take your place In the chrysalism of detachment.

15