"collates" poems - Hello Poetry

Consanguinity: A Commissioned Poem (How Well Do You Know Me?) This request, from wolf spirit aka quinfinn, accidentally hit the spot of what was foremost on my mind. Cosanguinity: A relationship by descent from a common ancestor; kinship (distinguished from affinity). A close relationship or connection. Poetry, mine, yours, Ours, Invades my consciousness. We write poems on the same subject, Even the same title, But a few days apart. Insanity, Coincidence, or Consanguinity? Perhaps we are reading each other's stuff Too much. But that's crazy, Or Consanguinity? Yet, And yet, We see the same things So incredibly different. That is the answer. We see the same thing and I am Struck down. A billion sights. A billion words. Yet, the human computer, Sorts, collates, and generates A billion different writes In a similar spirit, Employing the same phraseology. All right. Alright. Malaysia. Minnesota. East Coast. West Coast. Geographical differences. Time differences. No difference. A billion differences. The stylistic differences enable, No, correction, Ennobles us to coexist, Value each other, Learn. Observable differences. But more interesting, More pleasurable, are the incredible, visible, signs of Consanguinity. Mere affinity? Kinship. A poem? Nah. But at 1:11am in my location, It's what's on my mind. Now that I know the meaning of Consanguinity.

0

Nov 4, 2013

Nov 4, 2013 at 1:21 AM UTC

nat-lipstadt

Consanguinity: A Commissioned Poem

Consanguinity: A Commissioned Poem (How Well Do You Know Me?) This request, from wolf spirit aka quinfinn, accidentally hit the spot of what was foremost on my mind. Cosanguinity: A relationship by descent from a common ancestor; kinship (distinguished from affinity). A close relationship or connection. Poetry, mine, yours, Ours, Invades my consciousness. We write poems on the same subject, Even the same title, But a few days apart. Insanity, Coincidence, or Consanguinity? Perhaps we are reading each other's stuff Too much. But that's crazy, Or Consanguinity? Yet, And yet, We see the same things So incredibly different. That is the answer. We see the same thing and I am Struck down. A billion sights. A billion words. Yet, the human computer, Sorts, collates, and generates A billion different writes In a similar spirit, Employing the same phraseology. All right. Alright. Malaysia. Minnesota. East Coast. West Coast. Geographical differences. Time differences. No difference. A billion differences. The stylistic differences enable, No, correction, Ennobles us to coexist, Value each other, Learn. Observable differences. But more interesting, More pleasurable, are the incredible, visible, signs of Consanguinity. Mere affinity? Kinship. A poem? Nah. But at 1:11am in my location, It's what's on my mind. Now that I know the meaning of Consanguinity.

63

silence swings over waters as if... it rehearses its unseen so... to fill in the depth of blanks a stratified time inhabits the landscape orphic dreams morph into your flesh the wind collates its courage and rage like someone who falls into a self my words bite the shape of a scream the hunger of love descends language into crumble the beauty of lungs full of air is misleasing when I am waiting for silence to miscarry its void

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Jul 19, 2025

Jul 19, 2025 at 5:19 AM UTC

irinia

silence

silence swings over waters as if... it rehearses its unseen so... to fill in the depth of blanks a stratified time inhabits the landscape orphic dreams morph into your flesh the wind collates its courage and rage like someone who falls into a self my words bite the shape of a scream the hunger of love descends language into crumble the beauty of lungs full of air is misleasing when I am waiting for silence to miscarry its void

11

It comes at night Terror grows in lack of light Minds run rampant, compelled by fright Of fear's omnipresent might The hearts pounding rings in ears You supress your precious tears Unaware if it may hear Giving life to all your fears Oh so fragile is the mind Of it's power we are blind For it creates this fear of ours Which comes to us in midnight hours Trembling we will await To what next it collates

0

Nov 22, 2017

Nov 22, 2017 at 10:47 PM UTC

Logan_Rezendes

Fear

It comes at night Terror grows in lack of light Minds run rampant, compelled by fright Of fear's omnipresent might The hearts pounding rings in ears You supress your precious tears Unaware if it may hear Giving life to all your fears Oh so fragile is the mind Of it's power we are blind For it creates this fear of ours Which comes to us in midnight hours Trembling we will await To what next it collates

14

Zeus himself presides over the ferrying of these souls, Zion awaits them, their final collective fate at hand, Yet slowly it turns its back upon them, Xenophanes mocks from his post, Wailing, they fall Velocity increasing infinitely, Until they see no more the lustrous light Trapped eternally in dark Stabbed with betrayal and fear, their souls Run amok, fleeing from the source of their anguish Questioning existence. Periodically in the abyss, the helpless aggregate conscious is Overwhelmed with memory of Paradise Now to them denied for eternity. Mephisto remains, their only companion, Leeching from them the final vestiges of hope now left within, once Kept hidden to protect the warriors, now Jabbed and pummeled to death. In this state of perpetual umbra Heaven so distant, now only faded, as if on parchment, Gained by the souls is a sense of locality, once Forgotten but now reattained, and En masse, the group instantly Derives that they have returned from beyond the mortal plane, the terra once again Collates beneath their soles, and the collective decides they must return Before the open sun, to bear themselves Against the gods, against sanctity itself, and thus they cry:

0

May 7, 2012

May 7, 2012 at 1:44 AM UTC

blair-griffith

XV

Zeus himself presides over the ferrying of these souls, Zion awaits them, their final collective fate at hand, Yet slowly it turns its back upon them, Xenophanes mocks from his post, Wailing, they fall Velocity increasing infinitely, Until they see no more the lustrous light Trapped eternally in dark Stabbed with betrayal and fear, their souls Run amok, fleeing from the source of their anguish Questioning existence. Periodically in the abyss, the helpless aggregate conscious is Overwhelmed with memory of Paradise Now to them denied for eternity. Mephisto remains, their only companion, Leeching from them the final vestiges of hope now left within, once Kept hidden to protect the warriors, now Jabbed and pummeled to death. In this state of perpetual umbra Heaven so distant, now only faded, as if on parchment, Gained by the souls is a sense of locality, once Forgotten but now reattained, and En masse, the group instantly Derives that they have returned from beyond the mortal plane, the terra once again Collates beneath their soles, and the collective decides they must return Before the open sun, to bear themselves Against the gods, against sanctity itself, and thus they cry:

27

To fault Tomorrow Would be wrong She just sat down And all she said was “I'm not sure” And here we are Offended Because Yesterday was certain But only today did she say anything About it And Today, she's been talking for a while. (We are tired of it) But Tomorrow thinks she can waltz in here And sit down Be mysterious and all I won’t have it But then to fault Tomorrow Would be wrong When its me At fault For thinking too long Too wide Too soon Too late For thinking and thinking Until it all collates And we are in a muddle A mess Of a puddle Bursting in tears Laughter And fears And all my Wondering She’s blameworthy I'm the neurotic one I can't sit still Until Tomorrow Doesn’t come back Dressed as Today When she will talk And talk And talk And I will wish once again For yesterday When she was All quiet And obnoxious And mysterious All unknown And we will be back in new roles New bodies New tales All over and over and over and over

0

Jul 26, 2023

Jul 26, 2023 at 9:43 PM UTC

AE

Time is a round table for trauma dumping

To fault Tomorrow Would be wrong She just sat down And all she said was “I'm not sure” And here we are Offended Because Yesterday was certain But only today did she say anything About it And Today, she's been talking for a while. (We are tired of it) But Tomorrow thinks she can waltz in here And sit down Be mysterious and all I won’t have it But then to fault Tomorrow Would be wrong When its me At fault For thinking too long Too wide Too soon Too late For thinking and thinking Until it all collates And we are in a muddle A mess Of a puddle Bursting in tears Laughter And fears And all my Wondering She’s blameworthy I'm the neurotic one I can't sit still Until Tomorrow Doesn’t come back Dressed as Today When she will talk And talk And talk And I will wish once again For yesterday When she was All quiet And obnoxious And mysterious All unknown And we will be back in new roles New bodies New tales All over and over and over and over

53

In the solemn silence of a night insomnia sets and hold a hand tears flow into a torrential waterfall memories erode and load eventfully Bitter drops, the emotional elope enveloped to the uncollected past one that pats with no relieve and closure such a long, lonely and unspent night The gut perforates and intuition collates Yet it's time to leave the ship and it's heat reform to seed, form to proceed as the emotion tangles and rumbles

0

Jul 31, 2017

Jul 31, 2017 at 10:24 PM UTC

SassyJ

Emotions exceeds

In the solemn silence of a night insomnia sets and hold a hand tears flow into a torrential waterfall memories erode and load eventfully Bitter drops, the emotional elope enveloped to the uncollected past one that pats with no relieve and closure such a long, lonely and unspent night The gut perforates and intuition collates Yet it's time to leave the ship and it's heat reform to seed, form to proceed as the emotion tangles and rumbles

12