"codas" poems - Hello Poetry

ACROSS the flat and the pastel snow Two people go . . . . 'And do you remember When last we wandered this shore?' . . . 'Ah no! For it is cold-hearted December.' 'Dead, the leaves that like asses's ears hung on the trees When last we wandered and squandered joy here; Now Midas your husband will listen for these Whispers--these tears for joy's bier.' And as they walk, they seem tall pagodas; And all the ropes let down from the cloud Ring the hard cold bell-buds upon the trees--codas Of overtones, ecstasies, grown for love's shroud

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6k

Dame Edith Sitwell

By The Lake

ACROSS the flat and the pastel snow Two people go . . . . 'And do you remember When last we wandered this shore?' . . . 'Ah no! For it is cold-hearted December.' 'Dead, the leaves that like asses's ears hung on the trees When last we wandered and squandered joy here; Now Midas your husband will listen for these Whispers--these tears for joy's bier.' And as they walk, they seem tall pagodas; And all the ropes let down from the cloud Ring the hard cold bell-buds upon the trees--codas Of overtones, ecstasies, grown for love's shroud

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Bells of gray crystal Break on each bough-- The swans' breath will mist all The cold airs now. Like tall pagodas Two people go, Trail their long codas Of talk through the snow. Lonely are these And lonely and I .... The clouds, gray Chinese geese Sleek through the sky.

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2.6k

Dame Edith Sitwell

Bells Of Gray Crystal

Bells of gray crystal Break on each bough-- The swans' breath will mist all The cold airs now. Like tall pagodas Two people go, Trail their long codas Of talk through the snow. Lonely are these And lonely and I .... The clouds, gray Chinese geese Sleek through the sky.

12

Bells of gray crystal Break on each bough-- The swans' breath will mist all The cold airs now. Like tall pagodas Two people go, Trail their long codas Of talk through the snow. Lonely are these And lonely and I .... The clouds, gray Chinese geese Sleek through the sky.

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2.1k

Dame Edith Sitwell

Bells Of Gray Crystal

Bells of gray crystal Break on each bough-- The swans' breath will mist all The cold airs now. Like tall pagodas Two people go, Trail their long codas Of talk through the snow. Lonely are these And lonely and I .... The clouds, gray Chinese geese Sleek through the sky.

12

Crushing out handclaps like cigarettes white noise whispering from each speaker song long over but the melody lingers codas in my mind, over the reports of car alarms and muffled conversation loose plastic groans of the office chair Another clean night viewed thru slanted blinds cold feet bare on ashy shadow carpet smoke in the air, streetlights slit in beams memory slips, hands type toward a dreamlike place, some lost day I set it straight crippling nonsense intense packed tight with grilled cheese and avocado Cazadores and cranberry push back sleep tiny cardboard boxes fill me ******* fluidity, one brown duck among the aggressive others that look on your face riding a rusted bike on your birthday your smile luminescent around the lake and then perhaps a beer and a hug potential tumescence grabbed and poked eating rusty water from an old brown glass leave a leather letter, a leather gun in hand garter belt memory, a trombone face a cardboard avocado, a lost refrain

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Jun 13, 2015

Jun 13, 2015 at 1:34 AM UTC

sb-stokes

Crushing nonsense cripples fluidity (Like Gokyo Lake breaking up in the sun.) For Andy Clausen.

Crushing out handclaps like cigarettes white noise whispering from each speaker song long over but the melody lingers codas in my mind, over the reports of car alarms and muffled conversation loose plastic groans of the office chair Another clean night viewed thru slanted blinds cold feet bare on ashy shadow carpet smoke in the air, streetlights slit in beams memory slips, hands type toward a dreamlike place, some lost day I set it straight crippling nonsense intense packed tight with grilled cheese and avocado Cazadores and cranberry push back sleep tiny cardboard boxes fill me ******* fluidity, one brown duck among the aggressive others that look on your face riding a rusted bike on your birthday your smile luminescent around the lake and then perhaps a beer and a hug potential tumescence grabbed and poked eating rusty water from an old brown glass leave a leather letter, a leather gun in hand garter belt memory, a trombone face a cardboard avocado, a lost refrain

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Black swans and roses And debonair dark hose What the conductor says Is how the music goes Night's magic abounds Students horse around Then the music plays And it's silent on the grounds Spotlights make auras Players dance through the stanzas The night's nearly out At the end of the codas The kids run off the stage Never losing a page With the March air about The swans act of their age

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Mar 9, 2017

Mar 9, 2017 at 10:54 PM UTC

breeze-mist

Concert Night

Black swans and roses And debonair dark hose What the conductor says Is how the music goes Night's magic abounds Students horse around Then the music plays And it's silent on the grounds Spotlights make auras Players dance through the stanzas The night's nearly out At the end of the codas The kids run off the stage Never losing a page With the March air about The swans act of their age

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Contains More Than Kernel Of Truthful alienation, expulsion, ostracization from body politick if member of society resistant, indifferent, adamant, et cetera despite differentiation (across the figurative board) intolerance opposing ethos, asper unspoken social graces extant (albeit manifested amidst diverse livingsocial variations) within rubric of global civilizations primal, oral, nonverbal, et cetera codas automatically decreeing manual Kant instilled from cradle to grave impossible mission scant acceptance toward recalcitrant challenging precepts via rave and/or rant thus when born into whatever culture, steeped with historical paradigm one can protest superficial nigh cities til ivy blue in the face, or try to concoct a feeble rhyme but culture club richly identified, endowed, brewed from heritage long time ago until the cows come home to roost hence creative pursuits one direction can turn to swiftly tailor if harried styled with perceived restrictive parameters and cuss like a sailor with song and dance routine (perhaps appearing on Dancing With The Stars), or choosing subterfuge viz writing nefarious malware code, wheremailer daemons spring to life, when computer code following infinitely jesting illogic causing exhaler (case in point - myself, hoot ends tubby humorous) as yukon gauge yet another Internet end user might experience greater reason to rage against the machine before turning rogue gushing renegade, stage jing anarchy against disparity with equal pay, cuz a working wage aint nuttin boot peanuts so if strong willed, hook hairs if you appear like a putz just realize doggerel of this pooch iz gaseous boot utterly without guts and hangs around the junkyard with other nerdy mutts.

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Mar 29, 2018

Mar 29, 2018 at 6:47 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

No shucking Small Talk...

Contains More Than Kernel Of Truthful alienation, expulsion, ostracization from body politick if member of society resistant, indifferent, adamant, et cetera despite differentiation (across the figurative board) intolerance opposing ethos, asper unspoken social graces extant (albeit manifested amidst diverse livingsocial variations) within rubric of global civilizations primal, oral, nonverbal, et cetera codas automatically decreeing manual Kant instilled from cradle to grave impossible mission scant acceptance toward recalcitrant challenging precepts via rave and/or rant thus when born into whatever culture, steeped with historical paradigm one can protest superficial nigh cities til ivy blue in the face, or try to concoct a feeble rhyme but culture club richly identified, endowed, brewed from heritage long time ago until the cows come home to roost hence creative pursuits one direction can turn to swiftly tailor if harried styled with perceived restrictive parameters and cuss like a sailor with song and dance routine (perhaps appearing on Dancing With The Stars), or choosing subterfuge viz writing nefarious malware code, wheremailer daemons spring to life, when computer code following infinitely jesting illogic causing exhaler (case in point - myself, hoot ends tubby humorous) as yukon gauge yet another Internet end user might experience greater reason to rage against the machine before turning rogue gushing renegade, stage jing anarchy against disparity with equal pay, cuz a working wage aint nuttin boot peanuts so if strong willed, hook hairs if you appear like a putz just realize doggerel of this pooch iz gaseous boot utterly without guts and hangs around the junkyard with other nerdy mutts.

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As par and parcel of being alive wire impossible aye to maintain totally tubularly literarily celibate by and bye with parochial restraint antiseptic dry as dust poetic refrains asper this healthy older guy devoid of physical whim zee unlike a inscrutable eunuch...so hi there dear reader experienced by this self contrived Zen minded nonestablishmentarian outlier, whose nonconformist yen tries to steer clear of controversy, heresy, prurient wen unless one happened to be eunuchized, i.e. sexless as a cold oven, but similar to generic men this writerly hen pecked husband dully drumming, droning, and dribbling as a lix spittle aged chap housed within Schwenksville, Pennsylvania bailiwick though far less inclined to whet ma lil atrophied dipstick than some young buck at the peak of his ****** prowess every now and again viz, aye feel a much slighter sensation drubbing, crackling, and buckling mine body electric and attempt to record re: font ten blue type boldface and/or Italic such infrequently occurring fleeting Johnson magic speculating why the hoo ha regarding mystic spell binding codas, dogmas, and enigmas, an integral component naturalistic within the calculus of life, when human species (parenthetically), naturally, inherently, and biologically opportunistic akin to other organisms whose quixotic antics allow NON GMO, MSG, and gluten free, and uncensored discussion asper reproductive habits rhapsodic with floral and/or faunal symphonic emanations donning each their own "NON FAKE" trumpeting spectacular humbly modest rubric, yet...universalistic as being linkedin within the cosmic whirled wide web.

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Jul 28, 2018

Jul 28, 2018 at 4:00 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

Just Shy 'o The Concupiscent Cusp

As par and parcel of being alive wire impossible aye to maintain totally tubularly literarily celibate by and bye with parochial restraint antiseptic dry as dust poetic refrains asper this healthy older guy devoid of physical whim zee unlike a inscrutable eunuch...so hi there dear reader experienced by this self contrived Zen minded nonestablishmentarian outlier, whose nonconformist yen tries to steer clear of controversy, heresy, prurient wen unless one happened to be eunuchized, i.e. sexless as a cold oven, but similar to generic men this writerly hen pecked husband dully drumming, droning, and dribbling as a lix spittle aged chap housed within Schwenksville, Pennsylvania bailiwick though far less inclined to whet ma lil atrophied dipstick than some young buck at the peak of his ****** prowess every now and again viz, aye feel a much slighter sensation drubbing, crackling, and buckling mine body electric and attempt to record re: font ten blue type boldface and/or Italic such infrequently occurring fleeting Johnson magic speculating why the hoo ha regarding mystic spell binding codas, dogmas, and enigmas, an integral component naturalistic within the calculus of life, when human species (parenthetically), naturally, inherently, and biologically opportunistic akin to other organisms whose quixotic antics allow NON GMO, MSG, and gluten free, and uncensored discussion asper reproductive habits rhapsodic with floral and/or faunal symphonic emanations donning each their own "NON FAKE" trumpeting spectacular humbly modest rubric, yet...universalistic as being linkedin within the cosmic whirled wide web.

59

There's light outside. The blue-blazered man speaks and I listen with my pen. All the warmth within my head emerges as if called upon by private hands. Wind whistles through the large windows. God is singing low-mood like hormones like a child's recorder practice. What is literature? we ask. I don't know but it looks a lot like me. He says the earth is lost in the future. Predictive post-apocalyptic longing. Fragile bones as flower-stems within us. We walk like jelly. Strange to think of it now, stranger yesterday still-- and tomorrow, the eyelids slip away to the night: closing bud-codas. Repeat-sign, where are you? The earth will turn to fire. Our revelations are gas-large, cow-heavy, burning engines zooming across cliffs. I drink because to think of this is not the sort of stumbling I need. I need arms and wine-fog hiding them (as children's games). I need a mirror. And I would want the birds. Them too.

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Oct 21, 2018

Oct 21, 2018 at 12:56 AM UTC

tawandamulalu

Poem.

There's light outside. The blue-blazered man speaks and I listen with my pen. All the warmth within my head emerges as if called upon by private hands. Wind whistles through the large windows. God is singing low-mood like hormones like a child's recorder practice. What is literature? we ask. I don't know but it looks a lot like me. He says the earth is lost in the future. Predictive post-apocalyptic longing. Fragile bones as flower-stems within us. We walk like jelly. Strange to think of it now, stranger yesterday still-- and tomorrow, the eyelids slip away to the night: closing bud-codas. Repeat-sign, where are you? The earth will turn to fire. Our revelations are gas-large, cow-heavy, burning engines zooming across cliffs. I drink because to think of this is not the sort of stumbling I need. I need arms and wine-fog hiding them (as children's games). I need a mirror. And I would want the birds. Them too.

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