"coronaries" poems - Hello Poetry

They burst upwards All around this evening There and there and there Trees, Trees, Trees Smashing through soil To a darkening sky Limbs and fingers and hands Trunk and twig Coiling coronaries Pressed to the sky’s last Etchings Monoliths Earths loud art Not solemn Not peace filled This evening Trees , Trees, Trees Explode from the earth Like Kraken from the ocean Belittling Reminding us Trees Trees Trees Four hundred million years Before you breathed Trees Trees Trees

0

Apr 12, 2021

Apr 12, 2021 at 5:23 PM UTC

TomDoubty

Trees, Trees, Trees

They burst upwards All around this evening There and there and there Trees, Trees, Trees Smashing through soil To a darkening sky Limbs and fingers and hands Trunk and twig Coiling coronaries Pressed to the sky’s last Etchings Monoliths Earths loud art Not solemn Not peace filled This evening Trees , Trees, Trees Explode from the earth Like Kraken from the ocean Belittling Reminding us Trees Trees Trees Four hundred million years Before you breathed Trees Trees Trees

25

Intertwine our pulmonaries Pull tight, tie together our coronaries My superior vena cava resting near yours Hear that, the sound of opening ventricle doors Beautiful looking aortas fixed Winding together as a double helix This heart of mine will skip a beat Just so my arrhythmia and yours might meet This ticker will only continue to tick If next to yours it may stick Not a murmur because of bad health A murmuring of loves bountiful wealth Atrium to atrium, heart to heart: Blood's continual pumping, so long as our valves never part.

0

Dec 24, 2012

Dec 24, 2012 at 6:44 PM UTC

shelby-loann

Anatomy of Adoration

Intertwine our pulmonaries Pull tight, tie together our coronaries My superior vena cava resting near yours Hear that, the sound of opening ventricle doors Beautiful looking aortas fixed Winding together as a double helix This heart of mine will skip a beat Just so my arrhythmia and yours might meet This ticker will only continue to tick If next to yours it may stick Not a murmur because of bad health A murmuring of loves bountiful wealth Atrium to atrium, heart to heart: Blood's continual pumping, so long as our valves never part.

14

your body is my habitual enclave, I know the roads, the routes, the rails, the way it sparks in the night, how it creaks with the sun. I coast your body like a map, the compass in my palm quivers, the needle whirls and swivels, disoriented, north left behind. instead I will globe-trot through your anatomy, with no concerns of foreign lands, with languages of gibberish and people unfamiliar. first, I will plunge into your shoulders, gape at the brawn, the vastness, compare them to the beautiful mountains seen in Colorado. next, I will huddle in the wool of your torso, stealing a quick snooze, submerged in the berceuse of your coronaries. afterward, I will drift among your hands, skipping among the grooves, stumbling upon the calluses. then, I will float among your lips, stealing speckles of salt while playfully greeting your lingual. and, and, and, my darling, this adventure will exhaust me. so I will traverse back, through your lips, your hands, your torso, your shoulders, until I come to my favorite monument. they are waves full of sapphire, clashing among charcoal thunderstorms, dancing along fields of jade. two orbs of magnificence (and mine) you will smile, and ask how the journey was, and I will reply, as always: “unforgettable”

0

May 14, 2013

May 14, 2013 at 9:03 PM UTC

amber-s

homeward bound

your body is my habitual enclave, I know the roads, the routes, the rails, the way it sparks in the night, how it creaks with the sun. I coast your body like a map, the compass in my palm quivers, the needle whirls and swivels, disoriented, north left behind. instead I will globe-trot through your anatomy, with no concerns of foreign lands, with languages of gibberish and people unfamiliar. first, I will plunge into your shoulders, gape at the brawn, the vastness, compare them to the beautiful mountains seen in Colorado. next, I will huddle in the wool of your torso, stealing a quick snooze, submerged in the berceuse of your coronaries. afterward, I will drift among your hands, skipping among the grooves, stumbling upon the calluses. then, I will float among your lips, stealing speckles of salt while playfully greeting your lingual. and, and, and, my darling, this adventure will exhaust me. so I will traverse back, through your lips, your hands, your torso, your shoulders, until I come to my favorite monument. they are waves full of sapphire, clashing among charcoal thunderstorms, dancing along fields of jade. two orbs of magnificence (and mine) you will smile, and ask how the journey was, and I will reply, as always: “unforgettable”

33

"What do you wish for?" Stunned, I remain silenced. Tapping the pencil, tilting my head; think. Fast. Now. Nothing came to my mind but extinguishing the very thought of you. I decided to grant my own solitary wish. And so, I wrote. I wrote you. I wrote all verbal poetry exchanged. I wrote all smirks and grins you've let escape. I wrote the mere change in your voice tone when you called my name. I wrote, because writing was my only savior. I wrote you, my darling, into ***** crumbled sheets of yellow paper. Rolling them up like those cigs enveloped by your lips, I embedded each one to my heart's core, one after the other, stroke after stroke, and I started bleeding all over. My final endurance, hallelujah, this was it! I detached my heart from all that's connected to it, I almost died. I gathered up what has remained from my frail soul and fed it into my coronaries, just to keep it pumping yet. Removing it gently, I dug up a hole in the dirt and slowly placed it. Here it was, you, lying in utter chaos. I was devoid of it. Devoid of what made me who I am. I was motionless, dull-eyed, insipid. I continued my life this way the moment I decided to bury you alive.

0

Jan 8, 2016

Jan 8, 2016 at 2:17 PM UTC

daisies

An Addition to the Graveyard of Resolutions

"What do you wish for?" Stunned, I remain silenced. Tapping the pencil, tilting my head; think. Fast. Now. Nothing came to my mind but extinguishing the very thought of you. I decided to grant my own solitary wish. And so, I wrote. I wrote you. I wrote all verbal poetry exchanged. I wrote all smirks and grins you've let escape. I wrote the mere change in your voice tone when you called my name. I wrote, because writing was my only savior. I wrote you, my darling, into ***** crumbled sheets of yellow paper. Rolling them up like those cigs enveloped by your lips, I embedded each one to my heart's core, one after the other, stroke after stroke, and I started bleeding all over. My final endurance, hallelujah, this was it! I detached my heart from all that's connected to it, I almost died. I gathered up what has remained from my frail soul and fed it into my coronaries, just to keep it pumping yet. Removing it gently, I dug up a hole in the dirt and slowly placed it. Here it was, you, lying in utter chaos. I was devoid of it. Devoid of what made me who I am. I was motionless, dull-eyed, insipid. I continued my life this way the moment I decided to bury you alive.

33

As I inhale, I catch your breath next to mine in the hallway, your hands are covered in blue veins and you tell me about the amygdala and the chemicals in our brains. I tell you how there are subtleties in the dark coronaries, there is a linger that assembles in the blood before it takes in the breath, there are secrets to the cells and the capillaries. Your hands are shaking a small bit, pale and blue, in the middle of the hallway. I grab them, you close your eyes, I know you wish you were elsewhere, but you must remember this life is a caricature of biology; we are all elsewhere - I wish I could tell you, that all I want to do is stratify you, lay you out across millennia, until you are everywhere in every rock every mineral. Tell you to remember, our birth is before the first day; we are the light before the dawn breaks - we are circulated me and you, like breath, like the morning star, effortlessly, orbiting - do you think we would fall off if the earth stopped spinning? “I do wonder if there would still be oxygen”

0

Aug 6, 2013

Aug 6, 2013 at 9:10 AM UTC

shoki

Gravity

As I inhale, I catch your breath next to mine in the hallway, your hands are covered in blue veins and you tell me about the amygdala and the chemicals in our brains. I tell you how there are subtleties in the dark coronaries, there is a linger that assembles in the blood before it takes in the breath, there are secrets to the cells and the capillaries. Your hands are shaking a small bit, pale and blue, in the middle of the hallway. I grab them, you close your eyes, I know you wish you were elsewhere, but you must remember this life is a caricature of biology; we are all elsewhere - I wish I could tell you, that all I want to do is stratify you, lay you out across millennia, until you are everywhere in every rock every mineral. Tell you to remember, our birth is before the first day; we are the light before the dawn breaks - we are circulated me and you, like breath, like the morning star, effortlessly, orbiting - do you think we would fall off if the earth stopped spinning? “I do wonder if there would still be oxygen”

49

Then take me. Reach out and wrap yourself around me, Press your heart to mine, connect coronaries. I'm not going to be the first one to leap I'm too clumsy, I'll fall over my own feet, And crash, tumbling at yours. Thinking is a bad idea. You need to catch me before I fall.

0

Jun 26, 2011

Jun 26, 2011 at 10:55 AM UTC

adela-wilde

"But I want you because you're different."

Then take me. Reach out and wrap yourself around me, Press your heart to mine, connect coronaries. I'm not going to be the first one to leap I'm too clumsy, I'll fall over my own feet, And crash, tumbling at yours. Thinking is a bad idea. You need to catch me before I fall.

8

Thoughts of ancient visions and past tribulations leave uncovered scabs on my soul, vulnerably marking it like Cain's. Unknown forces move me to replay situations of what was and no longer is. Ghosts, pulsing through my coronaries, leave me with a burning sensation that isolates me in yesterday. Catharsis is a joke. Each hour or year I absorb my sins and the sins of the world. They are beginning to clot, And the tears do nothing but inflame my eyes and my conscience. Hark! conscience- swollen, swollen like a cancerous infection of the mind surging through my neurons, covering them with concrete as it claims them. There is no purging. Quiet fears leap from my mind and Trickle down my neck, Clinging to hair follicles as they creep, Slowly Tearing At my focus. I shiver. With apprehension Of a potentially empty tomorrow, I tremble at the thought of satanic beings. Catharsis is a sick joke.

0

Feb 13, 2014

Feb 13, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC

rina-steinberg

Catharsis

Thoughts of ancient visions and past tribulations leave uncovered scabs on my soul, vulnerably marking it like Cain's. Unknown forces move me to replay situations of what was and no longer is. Ghosts, pulsing through my coronaries, leave me with a burning sensation that isolates me in yesterday. Catharsis is a joke. Each hour or year I absorb my sins and the sins of the world. They are beginning to clot, And the tears do nothing but inflame my eyes and my conscience. Hark! conscience- swollen, swollen like a cancerous infection of the mind surging through my neurons, covering them with concrete as it claims them. There is no purging. Quiet fears leap from my mind and Trickle down my neck, Clinging to hair follicles as they creep, Slowly Tearing At my focus. I shiver. With apprehension Of a potentially empty tomorrow, I tremble at the thought of satanic beings. Catharsis is a sick joke.

28