Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"constrictions" poems
Municipal Gum was written by Oodjeroo Noonecaal. Municipal Gum is about the changes in society and the tendency of people to want to control everything. Oodjeroo uses various techniques to convey this idea. At the beginning of the poem Oodjeroo is addressing the tree. This immediately creates empathy for both the tree and her people. By the last line she has emphasised this with the pronoun “us” to show that they suffer a similar fate. This poem expresses how life in Australia has changes especially for Aboriginal people. In the first half of the poem Oodjeroo is talking about how life was for her and others. It explores the changes in society and the displacement of the Aboriginal people from their land. “Whose head hung…Its hopelessness”, the author uses this as further re-iteration of the immorality of the situation and by the use of analogy comparing the tree to her people to further emphasise the shame and lack control of that the Europeans have inflicted upon her and the environment. Oodjeroo uses extended metaphor technique in the very first line of the poem ‘Hard bitumen around your feet’. This means that the gumtree has been placed in the city scape where it is suppressed and not allowed to spread out and be unique in its own way. This is clear and immanently direct link to the pain and suffering endured by the Aborigines post European settlement. Oodjeroo uses vivid language to present these ideas. For example the use of the word castrated is very effective. The connotation of the word is very demeaning. With castration often comes a sense of a loss of pride and power. The word castration is symbolic of how Oodjeroo feels the European have treated Aboriginal people and the environment. Castration also refers to the fact that what is done is done. Nothing can undo what they did and the damaged they have caused. Other symbolism includes the title “Municipal Gum”, municipal meaning community, implies that the gumtree belongs to the community. One of the vast differences between European and Aboriginal law is that Aboriginal people did not believe in the ownership of land or of animals and plants. Municipal Gum is a reference to the Europeans assumptions that everything is theirs to own and control. The rhetorical question, “O fellow citizen, What have they done to us?” is the conclusion of the implications that have been made throughout the poem. Oodjeroo, is advocating for her people and all things wronged by the controlling behaviour of the Europeans. Rhetorical questions are used to provoke thought and to stimulate a pre-determined response. “What have they done to us?” They have “castrated, broken… strapped and buckled” and ultimately changed things to a point that they cannot be fixed. In conclusion, Municipal Gum is a poem about the constrictions and change that the European invaders forced upon the Aboriginal community and the environment she believes that the Europeans have deemed themselves ever powerful and practice their power in a manner that is immoral.
0
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 7:47 AM UTC
Municipal Gum
Municipal Gum was written by Oodjeroo Noonecaal. Municipal Gum is about the changes in society and the tendency of people to want to control everything. Oodjeroo uses various techniques to convey this idea. At the beginning of the poem Oodjeroo is addressing the tree. This immediately creates empathy for both the tree and her people. By the last line she has emphasised this with the pronoun “us” to show that they suffer a similar fate. This poem expresses how life in Australia has changes especially for Aboriginal people. In the first half of the poem Oodjeroo is talking about how life was for her and others. It explores the changes in society and the displacement of the Aboriginal people from their land. “Whose head hung…Its hopelessness”, the author uses this as further re-iteration of the immorality of the situation and by the use of analogy comparing the tree to her people to further emphasise the shame and lack control of that the Europeans have inflicted upon her and the environment. Oodjeroo uses extended metaphor technique in the very first line of the poem ‘Hard bitumen around your feet’. This means that the gumtree has been placed in the city scape where it is suppressed and not allowed to spread out and be unique in its own way. This is clear and immanently direct link to the pain and suffering endured by the Aborigines post European settlement. Oodjeroo uses vivid language to present these ideas. For example the use of the word castrated is very effective. The connotation of the word is very demeaning. With castration often comes a sense of a loss of pride and power. The word castration is symbolic of how Oodjeroo feels the European have treated Aboriginal people and the environment. Castration also refers to the fact that what is done is done. Nothing can undo what they did and the damaged they have caused. Other symbolism includes the title “Municipal Gum”, municipal meaning community, implies that the gumtree belongs to the community. One of the vast differences between European and Aboriginal law is that Aboriginal people did not believe in the ownership of land or of animals and plants. Municipal Gum is a reference to the Europeans assumptions that everything is theirs to own and control. The rhetorical question, “O fellow citizen, What have they done to us?” is the conclusion of the implications that have been made throughout the poem. Oodjeroo, is advocating for her people and all things wronged by the controlling behaviour of the Europeans. Rhetorical questions are used to provoke thought and to stimulate a pre-determined response. “What have they done to us?” They have “castrated, broken… strapped and buckled” and ultimately changed things to a point that they cannot be fixed. In conclusion, Municipal Gum is a poem about the constrictions and change that the European invaders forced upon the Aboriginal community and the environment she believes that the Europeans have deemed themselves ever powerful and practice their power in a manner that is immoral.
Continue reading...
9
Reality is treacherous. Its conformity is maddening, and the rules insanely sane, The walls of uniformity are clouded with illusions that seem delusional, And freedom and constrictions seem one and the same, I am a dreamer, yet I fancy myself a creator, I build worlds from the shards of a life that lacks flavor, I prefer the freedom of love, hope and death, And I crave the obsession of life and birth, I am a dreamer, and so a world of facts and truths I shun, I am a dreamer, a dying race, under the setting sun. But the optimism of a dreamer is maddening, Filled with hopes and dreams that are inherently saddening, I am a wordsmith, a romantic and some might say a visionary, Creating universes and queens from the extraordinary, I am a romantic, and I desire the audience of the stars, I am a romantic, and carved on the walls of my heart are a million scars. I am a wordsmith, building walls from worlds torn at the seams, I am a dreamer, fleeing from the banality of life through my dreams.
0
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
A Wordsmith And A Dreamer.
Alone, as it started, as it should be. Into his hands i pass, gently. His sand seeps into my eyes, gritted and foreboding adventures await me. 18, the number of adulthood, but never yet have I felt more a child in an adults world. Judged as a mature spirit, that still heaps milo with milk, and i sit, as the last hours of my childhood roll swiftly away, tumbling, slipping through my open hands. It pangs me with a sudden sadness that, I finally an adult, have no constrictions to surround me, only a number of roads, on which to start my adventure.
0
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 6:26 AM UTC
Birthday
You can identify your own flaws by scrutinizing strangers. I watched a woman from across a platform at the subway station: Straight, dishwater-blonde hair glimmering in the subterranean fluorescence; striking posture— a dancer's figure— and a thrifty ensemble that bespoke good taste in spite of budgetary constrictions. She pulled a circular compact from her purse the way people in films exhume a pack of cigarettes. Then, in deliberate fashion, she removed a pill and swallowed it. Birth control is like receiving a governor's pardon in the process of planning a crime. I resent her having that kind of indemnity. I pass judgment on assumptions of character, high on the blissful soapbox of bigotry. As that pill crested the ridges of her teeth and met the soft tissue of her tongue, then esophagus, my mind conjured a phantasmagoria of lewd images on the surrounding subway walls-- more a reflection of my character than hers.
0
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 11:49 PM UTC
Mirror, Mirror
**Path #1 Forgiveness is the sinking head into heart.. The head dwelling in separation concedes logic's demands but confronting questions time after time: Why? and What? Surrendering at last to the sinking.. dissolving.. becoming.. the Heart... Path #2 Forgiveness is downloading of new software.. Our old software employs the ego rampant rendering forgiveness a difficult dream searching in forlorn places finding only traces.. New software finds it all Here and Now...! Path #3 Real forgiveness is Now not in time.. Events in the past seeming in need of forgiveness are only known Now.. and what of the Now..? it's other name our true identity: Forgiveness... Path #4 Chaos is an iteration of Forgiveness.. a shading and concealment of formulated light.. Our awaking brings the repentance the return the feedback to never absent Forgiveness... Path #5 A shock it is to learn that Forgiveness is not personal.. It is a realization of a substance common to all concerned transparent and eternal the real Self.. With that realization duality of conflict dissolves in the Light... Path #6 Quantum forgiveness is the only forgiveness.. A leap into infinite non-locality.. The suddenness arrives within painful progress or perhaps strangely enough out of the blue...! Path #7 Forgiveness an experience of sealing our separate brokenness.. It is mandatory.. Yet the sealing can be accomplished only by those who see there is no need for the sealing... Path # 8 Immersed in a separated dualistic reality seeking forgiveness in thought and time is not satisfying.. The lingering pain from a fruitless search for forgiveness in all the wrong places... Path #9 Forgiveness is a restoration of peace and happiness with new clarity: The Awareness of peace and happiness was never in need of restoration... Path #10 We need to see clearly that all relationships take place in infinite Awareness.. But wait.. not in .. but as.. All those hurts are constrictions of Awareness crying out their illusory separation...**
0
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 12:04 AM UTC
Ten Non-dual Paths to Forgiveness
**Path #1 Forgiveness is the sinking head into heart.. The head dwelling in separation concedes logic's demands but confronting questions time after time: Why? and What? Surrendering at last to the sinking.. dissolving.. becoming.. the Heart... Path #2 Forgiveness is downloading of new software.. Our old software employs the ego rampant rendering forgiveness a difficult dream searching in forlorn places finding only traces.. New software finds it all Here and Now...! Path #3 Real forgiveness is Now not in time.. Events in the past seeming in need of forgiveness are only known Now.. and what of the Now..? it's other name our true identity: Forgiveness... Path #4 Chaos is an iteration of Forgiveness.. a shading and concealment of formulated light.. Our awaking brings the repentance the return the feedback to never absent Forgiveness... Path #5 A shock it is to learn that Forgiveness is not personal.. It is a realization of a substance common to all concerned transparent and eternal the real Self.. With that realization duality of conflict dissolves in the Light... Path #6 Quantum forgiveness is the only forgiveness.. A leap into infinite non-locality.. The suddenness arrives within painful progress or perhaps strangely enough out of the blue...! Path #7 Forgiveness an experience of sealing our separate brokenness.. It is mandatory.. Yet the sealing can be accomplished only by those who see there is no need for the sealing... Path # 8 Immersed in a separated dualistic reality seeking forgiveness in thought and time is not satisfying.. The lingering pain from a fruitless search for forgiveness in all the wrong places... Path #9 Forgiveness is a restoration of peace and happiness with new clarity: The Awareness of peace and happiness was never in need of restoration... Path #10 We need to see clearly that all relationships take place in infinite Awareness.. But wait.. not in .. but as.. All those hurts are constrictions of Awareness crying out their illusory separation...**
Continue reading...
115
In particular evinces of comparable obliviousness To implications of extraneous misunderstandings That bring a melancholy of limited constrictions Makes one articulate anxiety in dazzling reform Of vibrant linguistic experimentation of lawless incongruity Resulting in rhetorical pyrotechnics that defy inflections And a wild farrago of tongues that boast a fecundity of speech
0
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 5:49 PM UTC
Talk, Talk, Talk.
After spending days away from her, Thinking I could resist her, But now it's just her blood, My throat aches for her blood ! Just a quinch of her blood and I can relax. Her white skin, Her hazel eyes, And that scent ! Oh not the scent you're thinking about. Her body odor. It just drives me crazy. I feel constrictions in my vein, Making me wanna wail, C'mon my love just a little of that blood, I swear it'll finish the thirst !
0
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 7:50 AM UTC
Forever Blood
I am a little bit brave and a little bit afraid I am my goddess and my moon I am my silver spoon elixirs life potions love potions magic brewing in a *** of desire to be free from the constrictions that used to bind me ladidee!
0
Nov 23, 2010
Nov 23, 2010 at 3:40 AM UTC
i am a little bit brave
there's a tear in the fabric of time and in your dress of which i am sneaking glances through. you'd look up for my response I'd nod to the ground (not quite at my shoes) "The world will fall apart! The universe is breaking!" And I sit and lick my lips. "What do we do?" I pick you up, and tear you away from the constrictions of all fabric.
0
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 6:09 PM UTC
Fabric
a perfect superstorm it is called.. rare hurricane tides and arctic cold.. converging constrictions to life.. anger and blame coloring bitter divisions of political discourse.. meeting 2012 expectations some say.. environmental neglect say others.. are these dark layers superficial life on edge masking new birth...?
0
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 10:34 PM UTC
Layers of Darkness
our conversations contain both light and filtering.. the words we find express our meaning one snapshot.. instantaneous filtering of a clearer light.. our words are moulded by gates constrictions words sometimes strike rather than flow.. one snapshot of who we are...
0
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 2:28 PM UTC
snapshot
The sunlight finds a crevice in the blinds to peak through and nudge me as in lay asleep. I am awakened by the gentle touch of warmth resting upon my left eye and cheek. With my eyes still shut, the chirping of the birds is projected in a much more distinct sound. I can feel everything, it is all heightened. Nature rises from its slumber and begins the day's work. Soon enough the sun hits it's peak and I can no longer hide away in my bed, avoiding life. It is time to face the world head on, and show it some kindness. I hear there is such thing as good karma. It's not that I hate life, I just don't show it enough love. And I may tend to despise every person walking over others to climb the social ladder, but I do not neglect the beauty of Earth and it's reflections on a minority of the population. Sometimes, I feel as if nature is the only sense of sanity left in the world which has mutated into a world of insanity and anarchy. The clouds are hovering over my favorite dogwood tree just down below, at my favorite park. I try my best to not let the tight constrictions of my thoughts encumber me in my goal of appreciating all of life's offerings. Once I pass through another fleeting day, the sun disperses underneath the mountains before I get a chance to wave it goodbye. As the luminous moon introduces itself to the stars floating around in the sky, I fall into bed beside a man who shows me no affection. I drift off into a peaceful slumber as my pessimistic thoughts engulf my mind into a state of manic depression, and I hate everything all over again. I cannot wait until the sunlight warms my face the next morning. If I make it that far.
0
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 12:22 AM UTC
Every(new)day.
The sunlight finds a crevice in the blinds to peak through and nudge me as in lay asleep. I am awakened by the gentle touch of warmth resting upon my left eye and cheek. With my eyes still shut, the chirping of the birds is projected in a much more distinct sound. I can feel everything, it is all heightened. Nature rises from its slumber and begins the day's work. Soon enough the sun hits it's peak and I can no longer hide away in my bed, avoiding life. It is time to face the world head on, and show it some kindness. I hear there is such thing as good karma. It's not that I hate life, I just don't show it enough love. And I may tend to despise every person walking over others to climb the social ladder, but I do not neglect the beauty of Earth and it's reflections on a minority of the population. Sometimes, I feel as if nature is the only sense of sanity left in the world which has mutated into a world of insanity and anarchy. The clouds are hovering over my favorite dogwood tree just down below, at my favorite park. I try my best to not let the tight constrictions of my thoughts encumber me in my goal of appreciating all of life's offerings. Once I pass through another fleeting day, the sun disperses underneath the mountains before I get a chance to wave it goodbye. As the luminous moon introduces itself to the stars floating around in the sky, I fall into bed beside a man who shows me no affection. I drift off into a peaceful slumber as my pessimistic thoughts engulf my mind into a state of manic depression, and I hate everything all over again. I cannot wait until the sunlight warms my face the next morning. If I make it that far.
Continue reading...
1
1 vowel lies no constrictions indicating syllabic peaks like a dot. 1 consonant is basically nasally flowing pronounced at the front of the tongue. Both, equally, refer to letters of the alphabet. correspond to sounds made ****** all along our way. but, all vowels and consonants without hearing their relevance. are deaf and dumb.
0
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 1:00 AM UTC
1 dumb vowel or consonant?
When I travel, I find home. Home is so strictly defined and constricted ****** in, forced to **** in, Constrictions put forth by suffocating friends Where small towns tighten the rope It has placed around my neck. I am the dog on the leash that is surrounded By every tree and every ball in the biggest park Who is tied to the tree and forgotten Beaten and told to stay. We grow up being force fed the idea of thinking small, Staying small, working small, living small But this world is too big to live small! I travel and find the people that I call home I find the shacks and shanties and weathered souls And every single person you and I will meet, Mutual or not, Knows something that you and I don't know And if that doesn't spark enough curiosity, Get out of the house. There is so much to learn and so much to absorb And maybe your house is your home Everyone, at some point, has a home, Some just travel with you, Others you have to find.
0
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 8:53 PM UTC
I Don't Know What Home Is
There's an anchor in my chest, and although it keeps me from drowning in these nightmare sweats, my ribs are splintered, my heart bruised from being weighed down so much. I get a masochistic contentment from it, though. There's a soft happiness I get from seeing the small reminders of you that I see throughout my day, although they inject adrenaline through my veins and send constrictions through my lungs. I've stumbled upon the gap where you normally walk and I've fallen through the space you usually occupy. I've tried to lean against the mere thought of you but every time I've crashed against the cruel reality, against the stinging realization. I've become lost in these sheets, trying to find you in the hole of my blankets that caresses your curves and hugs your dimension. I wish this anchor of my love hadn't fallen at your neck, I wish my sentiment hadn't ****** you against a wall and bound you, and it's not in the way we'd both prefer.
0
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 12:08 PM UTC
An Anchor in my Chest
*This Is The Story Of Her, New-Fangled Eyes, Filling Up In Valiant High, A Sacramental Anticipation, Victim Of Her Addiction, Specter Amour Ensemble, She Kisses So Gentle, A New Found Glory, Like What’s The Morning Story? An Ark Of Optimism, An Immortal Prism, A Scope Of Life, Enslaved To Her Emphatic Hive, Imbibed Inside Her Metamorphosing Dive, Eternal Sunshine Of A Spotless High, Twinkling Fireworks Into The Duskiest Night, Like The Sprightliest Light, Painting Me In All Her Colors Of Life, A Gorgeous Cognizance Blossoming Transcendence Of 90’s Summer, As She Discos Like A Junior In Spring Summer, Myriad Instants Of Her Untamable Beliefs Driving Me In Her Upbeat Beats, Infinitely Running On Repeat, Scorching With Her Heartbeat, An Amour So Sanctified, Thrills Out All The Unrefined, Cause To Major Redesign A Cryptic Princess From Tomorrow Land, Glued To Her Hand In Hand, A Wish Of Hazel Eyes, Relentlessly Every Night, Cranberry Delights, Mystical Highlights, Etched With Infinite Scars Of Her Amours Into Transcendent Clusters Of Her Own, Engulfed In Her Moans In Rome, Surrendered To Her Cryptic Heart, She’s A Symphony To Mozart, All She Gives Are Premature Ventricular Constrictions Every Infinite, Till The Rest Of Her Lives* - 04:21AM
0
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 5:53 PM UTC
Drop Dead Gorgeous
canals and containers vital constrictions to flow these common constraints we find widespread.. at start of each day a humble cup we see holding our morning tea.. those outward vessels mirror many inside.. these carry surprise in acquaintance.. not knowing 'til just now their containment of everflowing light.. our task.. with urgency now.. to focus awareness on those vessels which are ours alone.. we need a simple introduction to those avoided constrictions each of us owns.. often painfully seated in solitary places.. a dear friend's illness with diagnosis fleeting.. in desperation at last filtering years of bedridden strife.. new awareness uncovered a new container for her illumined voice.. with gifts for many journeys unfolding.. my own discoveries from life's late diggings found vessels quietly buried and residing in military formations of gold and gray and black.. these are holders now of lights of new scope and scale.. the vessels we own are lined and defined awaiting discovery sooner or late.. illumined.. with healing in-sight and we are enriched in knowing our vessels..our lights are one...
0
Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 5:03 PM UTC
Vessels
... So now it's been twelve years... Do you still live?  We were torn from each other. Can you still feel the constrictions of your heart With every memory brought back to life? And, sometimes, is the past so real, that you can breathe the very air we breathed - and feel my skin beneath your fingertips..? In my world there is none replacing you Though I have kept my paper dolls for comfort's sake My cool resolve is straining. I can still feel the cool coarse texture of your hair -and long again for innocence. Will I carry  you in my heart unto my last days Never knowing what was lost? This forever unrequited love plays like a tragedy. Shall we never know our hearts again? Shall I always dream and awaken empty -you in your world, -I in mine? How shall we counsel our children- love our mates? Are humans never to be allowed perfect love, But forced to part and seek our surrogates? I wish for you what I have not: Conjugal bliss and total amnesia to past perfection, Renewal of hope - for only that which is attainable - and gentle sleep without dreams.
0
May 26, 2010
May 26, 2010 at 10:58 AM UTC
Epistle to Paul
My counter sits patiently as always on that square waiting! For chance of your die to land you on a merciful ladder. I have risked my way now just before the finish No. 99 Slid down those reptiles Escaped their constrictions fought. It wasn't easy, what is? I understand your reserve Honestly. My game was easier I had a more forgiving Board. Whispered once before I will always be there, still plays True. Only together will I brave No. 100, so my counter stays Roll.
0
Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 5:06 PM UTC
Snakes & Ladders
Criticism crawls uncontrollably through crevices left behind in the Kinetics of my mind, the need, the severance of mind from body Somewhere, they call, mocking and cutting but I try to ignore The feeling that I am being watched, coddled, pacified, Guided through life, one life. Only one try. Shall I break free of the constrictions? Movement will be my key Never stop and they Can't keep their Grip on Me.
0
Jun 29, 2010
Jun 29, 2010 at 11:48 AM UTC
Drone No More
Fix your smiles like sutures against my skin pull back black hair, paint prides picture vain he reignites present, sings such impeccable sin as fresh pressed flesh weeps for him again. I dissolve single stitches, you breathe them within clasp palms and you sit, surrendering thy strain raise wary hands to mine; all mine now to win? you release, reach constrictions, rue me insane. Keep rise rampant memory, fire fevered forged grin best silent significance, now such rendered resting, your words tripped dismissed long dead echoing din riled love risked rages yes for true absence of him.
0
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 1:26 PM UTC
Proclaiming reincarnation.
Taught  through criticism Thoughts were fuelled with cynicism Feeling love was conditioned According to our submission We were imprisoned In our minds where we envisioned Better lives it became a mission Tears, sweat and blood were always a given But we've risen Above these constrictions Freed from our prisons To make acquisitions To make decisions Based on valid reason We were raised to be different A generation of deliverance That would be of great significance
0
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 4:59 AM UTC
~ how we were raised ~
I divested myself of the constrictions of modern society that suggests my curves are borderline obese but an artist eye doesn't see this It pictures the dips and hollows of life bearing another soul over and over Connoisseurs of Form appreciate my nakedness as I'm transferred to canvas with pigments of ochre and red and charcoal blacks Smudges are incorporated into telling lines that lie But there are no easels nor a paintbrush in sight I'm standing naked under a moon full and bright for the sake of art the only person painting me in perfection is me
0
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 11:14 PM UTC
I Stripped Naked for the Sake of Art
*I'll let you get past He said.. a narrowing trail these constrictions each and all are miniature black holes.. most plentiful now our traffic snarls scarcities abound narrow painful news.. today's trail courtesy an expanding gesture in constricting times...*
0
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 6:27 PM UTC
On the trail