"crated" poems - Hello Poetry

To each a body temple, crated temple earth! Two homes therefor each.. One head lay with one heart... And offer one another the bed of forgiveness each day, magnificently, Bold Ebb beat, Beat breathe, Flow beat Beat r e a t h e : Birthing as we see Indeed, we be Understand Within Bless Love be love See Out ward's Utter Ing's Rx's Truly Free 'That is all' Lord's o r d e s s ' s

0

Mar 18, 2014

Mar 18, 2014 at 9:40 AM UTC

sa-sa-ra

Midwife Be

To each a body temple, crated temple earth! Two homes therefor each.. One head lay with one heart... And offer one another the bed of forgiveness each day, magnificently, Bold Ebb beat, Beat breathe, Flow beat Beat r e a t h e : Birthing as we see Indeed, we be Understand Within Bless Love be love See Out ward's Utter Ing's Rx's Truly Free 'That is all' Lord's o r d e s s ' s

44

Music was my way to drown out what I would feel, trying to deny that it was real. My skin would suffer from what I would do to myself I couldn't take my mind off the silver object hidden on my shelf. The silence of my bedroom ultimately crated violence. The things that left me horrified, I saw constantly glorified. While the most beautiful things can be birthed from pain, The pain was not what was to be desired, the constant drain. No one should ever think that the fear of gain makes you strong, It should not be the subject in a song. Blood stained wrists are not romantic, It is caused by pain overly titanic. Don't try to relate self horror, With being an explorer. Beauty is Beautiful, Pain is Painful.

0

Jun 8, 2015

Jun 8, 2015 at 2:38 PM UTC

gaypetals

Pain isn't romantic

Music was my way to drown out what I would feel, trying to deny that it was real. My skin would suffer from what I would do to myself I couldn't take my mind off the silver object hidden on my shelf. The silence of my bedroom ultimately crated violence. The things that left me horrified, I saw constantly glorified. While the most beautiful things can be birthed from pain, The pain was not what was to be desired, the constant drain. No one should ever think that the fear of gain makes you strong, It should not be the subject in a song. Blood stained wrists are not romantic, It is caused by pain overly titanic. Don't try to relate self horror, With being an explorer. Beauty is Beautiful, Pain is Painful.

18

enormous elephant in the room his fat *** blocking the shrooms i can't see the ******* moon ahh this is that finger that tap taps at the scaled skins on the shapely layered fins of the crated barreled tins of my dainty figured limbs that cross bows into the muscle that beats a hollow hustle a rhythmic monotonic tussle that in which keeps this alive this thing i call the enigmatic tide this wussy like mind this funk-du-funky found that that idiotic lice that lied in which I figure is the only thing left to **** the mind that is not the vicarious blinds that cover the truth in various skills to which I cannot shallnot reveal in lines

0

Dec 6, 2013

Dec 6, 2013 at 4:45 PM UTC

waveringtags

Poetic Goddess No. 2

enormous elephant in the room his fat *** blocking the shrooms i can't see the ******* moon ahh this is that finger that tap taps at the scaled skins on the shapely layered fins of the crated barreled tins of my dainty figured limbs that cross bows into the muscle that beats a hollow hustle a rhythmic monotonic tussle that in which keeps this alive this thing i call the enigmatic tide this wussy like mind this funk-du-funky found that that idiotic lice that lied in which I figure is the only thing left to **** the mind that is not the vicarious blinds that cover the truth in various skills to which I cannot shallnot reveal in lines

20

starting fires in alleyways and watching flames lick across brick rubbing damp clay dolls across palms to chase warmth in winter picking fake leaves off of plastic plants and flicking fern on floor crouching next to walnut pots and standing to the doorway sides grazing static on the television as pearl teeth knock across the pane kissing knuckles and letting silver spikes snake between your teeth breaking might be like running my fingers through the fields of your hair sowing flowers in the empty crevices that separate the folds of my skin walking by your crated white-picked house in the brisk afternoon laying a hollowed hand over the denim jacket before my upticked heart pressing lips to letters hoping that they'll be ripped open tomorrow plunging eyes inside the envelope waiting to read what i write

0

Jun 18, 2015

Jun 18, 2015 at 9:58 PM UTC

lake

breaking might be like

starting fires in alleyways and watching flames lick across brick rubbing damp clay dolls across palms to chase warmth in winter picking fake leaves off of plastic plants and flicking fern on floor crouching next to walnut pots and standing to the doorway sides grazing static on the television as pearl teeth knock across the pane kissing knuckles and letting silver spikes snake between your teeth breaking might be like running my fingers through the fields of your hair sowing flowers in the empty crevices that separate the folds of my skin walking by your crated white-picked house in the brisk afternoon laying a hollowed hand over the denim jacket before my upticked heart pressing lips to letters hoping that they'll be ripped open tomorrow plunging eyes inside the envelope waiting to read what i write

12

*when i look in the mirror i can't appreciate what i see i'm no work of art i'm not beautiful or special i'm just a girl who is overlooked because i'm not the Mona Lisa i'm just a ****** sidewalk chalk drawing that was crated by the 8 year old that lives next door i'm just ugly scribbles on the old concrete sidewalk no one bothers to look or to say "hello" i'm just there with cracks and flaws in my foundation that no one bothers to repair i'm a mediocre piece of art if i even qualify as that much and when the rain comes to wash me away i will be gone but i won't be sad because i know that even though i wasn't beautiful or mesmerizing or enchanting i had a purpose i was significant and hopefully i meant something to someone and for once in my life i am happy*

0

Apr 1, 2013

Apr 1, 2013 at 8:54 PM UTC

allie-2

poem #8

*when i look in the mirror i can't appreciate what i see i'm no work of art i'm not beautiful or special i'm just a girl who is overlooked because i'm not the Mona Lisa i'm just a ****** sidewalk chalk drawing that was crated by the 8 year old that lives next door i'm just ugly scribbles on the old concrete sidewalk no one bothers to look or to say "hello" i'm just there with cracks and flaws in my foundation that no one bothers to repair i'm a mediocre piece of art if i even qualify as that much and when the rain comes to wash me away i will be gone but i won't be sad because i know that even though i wasn't beautiful or mesmerizing or enchanting i had a purpose i was significant and hopefully i meant something to someone and for once in my life i am happy*

28

No hugs no kisses that's not a males way Listen to what your daddy say Is what I've been told Ever since I days old They say kids are your blessings I guess i was curse Without me life would be better Guess I made worse Being committed and young You said that life was dumb Overrated it seem like my smile you hated Tho it was the face you crated I'm pround of you ones in my life A moment life felt right Hes Speaking from experience That give me no convenience I Try to see right When I see wrong Me and father well never get alone

0

Nov 8, 2015

Nov 8, 2015 at 10:34 AM UTC

87forever

like father not like son

No hugs no kisses that's not a males way Listen to what your daddy say Is what I've been told Ever since I days old They say kids are your blessings I guess i was curse Without me life would be better Guess I made worse Being committed and young You said that life was dumb Overrated it seem like my smile you hated Tho it was the face you crated I'm pround of you ones in my life A moment life felt right Hes Speaking from experience That give me no convenience I Try to see right When I see wrong Me and father well never get alone

18

crated to an imperfection the moon and her's reflection. Glowing back at her in the lakes surface she wasn't nervous. She came here for a purpose. She sank her feet into the sand felt the water with her hands looked up at the moon thought of your face quickened her pace lowered her head underwater and never came back up to the lakes surface.

0

Jun 28, 2013

Jun 28, 2013 at 4:56 PM UTC

augustine

The moon and her

crated to an imperfection the moon and her's reflection. Glowing back at her in the lakes surface she wasn't nervous. She came here for a purpose. She sank her feet into the sand felt the water with her hands looked up at the moon thought of your face quickened her pace lowered her head underwater and never came back up to the lakes surface.

12

Injured from the outside.. Bleeding from the inside... I'm touched and my body wants to suicide.. Got so far and all I have is the desire to die.. I lost my human side.. Searching for a therapy that can heal my mind.. Under the moon light... I stayed awake overnight... Crying and praying with a broken heart.... Waiting for the daylight.... Wishing and hoping something goes right... I've started what I cannot restart... I was a dead body for a long.. And from now wish just nothing goes wrong.. I've been waiting a long.... With a frozen blood and painful song.. Candle faith becomes less in length... And fire flare started losing it's magic strength... I've gone away with no words to say.... I've been where none have seen... My precious poor heart is crated... Beats very slowly and confused for what i've created.. My tongue attached in a deeply closed cell.. In a range of concerns with nothing left to tell.. Winds of past began to chase... Searching for a memory was lost in the spacious space... I'm dying..I'm done.. Suffering on my own.. Forever alone and entirely unknown.. Every breath I take..I get more pain... Tied with an unbroken grief cursed chain... But something keeping me alive.. Something giving me power.. Such a bright shine flower.. something telling me : You got the key and im gonna set you free.. stop grumbling and complaining cuz you're not the only broken tree..

0

Sep 17, 2014

Sep 17, 2014 at 7:00 AM UTC

halim

Broken Heart

Injured from the outside.. Bleeding from the inside... I'm touched and my body wants to suicide.. Got so far and all I have is the desire to die.. I lost my human side.. Searching for a therapy that can heal my mind.. Under the moon light... I stayed awake overnight... Crying and praying with a broken heart.... Waiting for the daylight.... Wishing and hoping something goes right... I've started what I cannot restart... I was a dead body for a long.. And from now wish just nothing goes wrong.. I've been waiting a long.... With a frozen blood and painful song.. Candle faith becomes less in length... And fire flare started losing it's magic strength... I've gone away with no words to say.... I've been where none have seen... My precious poor heart is crated... Beats very slowly and confused for what i've created.. My tongue attached in a deeply closed cell.. In a range of concerns with nothing left to tell.. Winds of past began to chase... Searching for a memory was lost in the spacious space... I'm dying..I'm done.. Suffering on my own.. Forever alone and entirely unknown.. Every breath I take..I get more pain... Tied with an unbroken grief cursed chain... But something keeping me alive.. Something giving me power.. Such a bright shine flower.. something telling me : You got the key and im gonna set you free.. stop grumbling and complaining cuz you're not the only broken tree..

36

Lawrence Hall [email protected] https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/ poeticdrivel.blogspot.com Keats Helps Carry a Cat to the Veterinarian [I]f Poetry comes not as naturally as the Leaves to a tree it had better not come at all -John Keats, Letter to John Taylor, February 27, 1818 1 The leaves come naturally from the trees today As autumn floats away, onto the pages of life Memories set down, one word at a time Or phrases scribbled in heart-leaping haste But in humility the poor poet perceives That lines often don’t come naturally at all Resisting as fiercely as hissing cats Being crated for a trip to the vet No Poetry doesn’t come as easily as all that - Come, Mr. Keats, and help me with this cat! 1 John Keats – "Keats's Axioms" -- Letter to John Taylor, February 27, 1818 | Genius

0

Nov 26, 2020

Nov 26, 2020 at 7:41 AM UTC

lawrence-hall

Keats Helps Carry a Cat to the Veterinarian

Lawrence Hall [email protected] https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/ poeticdrivel.blogspot.com Keats Helps Carry a Cat to the Veterinarian [I]f Poetry comes not as naturally as the Leaves to a tree it had better not come at all -John Keats, Letter to John Taylor, February 27, 1818 1 The leaves come naturally from the trees today As autumn floats away, onto the pages of life Memories set down, one word at a time Or phrases scribbled in heart-leaping haste But in humility the poor poet perceives That lines often don’t come naturally at all Resisting as fiercely as hissing cats Being crated for a trip to the vet No Poetry doesn’t come as easily as all that - Come, Mr. Keats, and help me with this cat! 1 John Keats – "Keats's Axioms" -- Letter to John Taylor, February 27, 1818 | Genius

20

Happy happy joyous slappy passing by the desolate and ****** Waving flags so elated rising above the dark and crated Waxing ecstatic automatic soaring clouds over glum dramatic Fully mirthed energy astounds a sense of worth I'm passing round I won't be ever coming down at least to earth I won't be bound

0

Sep 19, 2017

Sep 19, 2017 at 9:18 AM UTC

TemporalFugue

Universally Jolly

Happy happy joyous slappy passing by the desolate and ****** Waving flags so elated rising above the dark and crated Waxing ecstatic automatic soaring clouds over glum dramatic Fully mirthed energy astounds a sense of worth I'm passing round I won't be ever coming down at least to earth I won't be bound

22

Or, in other words my Thoughts are to inferior for you, You who proudly takes the Teachers seal upon you, and swears non judgement, you who taught me Poetry was something to be loved, crated, and cherished no matter the subject or the look. Such are arbitrary to my message I attempt to convey, and the feelings I try to display. You don't like what I write? I, frankly, Don't like you.

0

May 1, 2015

May 1, 2015 at 12:31 AM UTC

kyle-j-horstmann

You Don't Like what I write?

Or, in other words my Thoughts are to inferior for you, You who proudly takes the Teachers seal upon you, and swears non judgement, you who taught me Poetry was something to be loved, crated, and cherished no matter the subject or the look. Such are arbitrary to my message I attempt to convey, and the feelings I try to display. You don't like what I write? I, frankly, Don't like you.

7

the dog, crated, waits patiently for the coming of morning: and with it, breakfast. still in her red jacket delivered today she lies somewhat uncomfortably in it. but not angrily, as before. the dishes pile up in the kitchen: not caught up from the week_ they will remain too, sleeping until dawn standing as evidence of time passing and of bodies being fed. minds will wander to other things but bodies have been fed and they push into tomorrows (because of it.) [. ]

0

Feb 23, 2019

Feb 23, 2019 at 7:38 PM UTC

k_faye

**.tsun-tsun**

the dog, crated, waits patiently for the coming of morning: and with it, breakfast. still in her red jacket delivered today she lies somewhat uncomfortably in it. but not angrily, as before. the dishes pile up in the kitchen: not caught up from the week_ they will remain too, sleeping until dawn standing as evidence of time passing and of bodies being fed. minds will wander to other things but bodies have been fed and they push into tomorrows (because of it.) [. ]

14