"daggering" poems - Hello Poetry

Hands clinging to rocks against the mountain side, strands of hair falling to my face. Almost to the top, just one more step. "Pull up your socks!" Everyone below yells, nagging me to do so. I ignore, focusing to make my way to the peak. "Pull up your socks!" The repeat, daggering at my toes. I am anything but a child of theirs. I continue on. "Pull up your socks!" They scream again, my eyes rolling. I arrive to the top.

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Nov 11, 2012

Nov 11, 2012 at 6:13 PM UTC

lisa-benson

Mountain climbs.

Hands clinging to rocks against the mountain side, strands of hair falling to my face. Almost to the top, just one more step. "Pull up your socks!" Everyone below yells, nagging me to do so. I ignore, focusing to make my way to the peak. "Pull up your socks!" The repeat, daggering at my toes. I am anything but a child of theirs. I continue on. "Pull up your socks!" They scream again, my eyes rolling. I arrive to the top.

10

Your lungs bare a breath That drives my sensations, Wild. A warm, slight gust. It takes me aback, Like a house attempting to withstand The mightiest of hurricanes. I am defenceless Against your daggering, crystal blue gaze. It pierces my soul, And penetrates my very heart. I am a wounded warrior, My heart no longer a heavy hitter, But a lingering weakness. Stepping into battle against your tender touch, Would prove to be a futile mistake. I will tremble before you, As many have before. You are the anchor, Bound to my feet, I cannot stay afloat Whilst you plummet, To the ocean floor.

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Apr 5, 2015

Apr 5, 2015 at 8:08 AM UTC

dylan-nicklason

The Silence to the Storm

Your lungs bare a breath That drives my sensations, Wild. A warm, slight gust. It takes me aback, Like a house attempting to withstand The mightiest of hurricanes. I am defenceless Against your daggering, crystal blue gaze. It pierces my soul, And penetrates my very heart. I am a wounded warrior, My heart no longer a heavy hitter, But a lingering weakness. Stepping into battle against your tender touch, Would prove to be a futile mistake. I will tremble before you, As many have before. You are the anchor, Bound to my feet, I cannot stay afloat Whilst you plummet, To the ocean floor.

23

So much laughter perhaps in front of the console If when we hand over what was given, we are inconsolable. Assume this position when reaction is demanded: You could, a massive day. You could, a spectral of night daggering into the forthcoming of nakedness that was your title, enmeshed, and then in a moment’s brief charade, torn apart, contained within four bedposts and a notch for a shimmering body lined with a peregrine skin. how much it cost you, putting a face in this profile losing the document from flinging in the last time over and over as if we do not die only making copies of it each day a page is turned not over but crimson with blame, forging a lie about every gilded moment as if touch could end it so this day collapsed into a breath’s span crossing rivers.

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May 24, 2016

May 24, 2016 at 2:10 AM UTC

windsor-i-guadalupe-jr

Prēˈkōətl / Pre-coital

So much laughter perhaps in front of the console If when we hand over what was given, we are inconsolable. Assume this position when reaction is demanded: You could, a massive day. You could, a spectral of night daggering into the forthcoming of nakedness that was your title, enmeshed, and then in a moment’s brief charade, torn apart, contained within four bedposts and a notch for a shimmering body lined with a peregrine skin. how much it cost you, putting a face in this profile losing the document from flinging in the last time over and over as if we do not die only making copies of it each day a page is turned not over but crimson with blame, forging a lie about every gilded moment as if touch could end it so this day collapsed into a breath’s span crossing rivers.

18

I walk through the main door, heaving my gaze on every little thing I could see, Daggering signs of unkempt mess, spread all over the floor, Fringing little pieces with signs of dust obscured upon, Every little memory I could reminisce, every solitary object thinkable, And I realize, that I’m standing in the same living room, Which once filled with unmeasurable content, Is now long forlorn, With the walls brushing out It’s colour, floor musty, ceilings ambiguous, Belted, I stride towards my parents’ room, still average sized, albeit dullish, With the purple colour turned pale white, windows covered with hefty dust, Spots where there were perfectly sketched paintings, now withered, And my small buried light of hope dashes, bursting into flames. Next I enter my room, the place where it all began, All the hopes and ambitions, the curious revelations, The curtains, once a heavy shade of blue, were now worn out, The walls had spit out it’s true colours, And the essence of the cologne was still there, but rotten. I stand for a while, motionless, allowing the memories to rush down into me, Eyes closed, while my eyelids flicker, as if reliving it all, Shredded with the load of despair, I walk out, Through the living room, and as I ponder upon all the long buried mystical memories, I close the main gate, lock the house, And keep the key exactly where I found it, under the rugged doormat. The nameplate read “Home”.

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May 25, 2016

May 25, 2016 at 8:52 AM UTC

shivang-ambardar

Home

I walk through the main door, heaving my gaze on every little thing I could see, Daggering signs of unkempt mess, spread all over the floor, Fringing little pieces with signs of dust obscured upon, Every little memory I could reminisce, every solitary object thinkable, And I realize, that I’m standing in the same living room, Which once filled with unmeasurable content, Is now long forlorn, With the walls brushing out It’s colour, floor musty, ceilings ambiguous, Belted, I stride towards my parents’ room, still average sized, albeit dullish, With the purple colour turned pale white, windows covered with hefty dust, Spots where there were perfectly sketched paintings, now withered, And my small buried light of hope dashes, bursting into flames. Next I enter my room, the place where it all began, All the hopes and ambitions, the curious revelations, The curtains, once a heavy shade of blue, were now worn out, The walls had spit out it’s true colours, And the essence of the cologne was still there, but rotten. I stand for a while, motionless, allowing the memories to rush down into me, Eyes closed, while my eyelids flicker, as if reliving it all, Shredded with the load of despair, I walk out, Through the living room, and as I ponder upon all the long buried mystical memories, I close the main gate, lock the house, And keep the key exactly where I found it, under the rugged doormat. The nameplate read “Home”.

23

Barren empty sidewalks gray and unforgiving, winding on in never-ending concrete roads; making un-melodic thumping sounds as my feet rhythmically step- dance- and twirl- Cold and lifeless buildings, garter-ed in girders of steel and glass; reflecting everyone's business- every nosy little thought, every scathing deadly glance; Steep towers of frozen brokers, daggering into other's precious dreams, and optimism- like the person you used to be, like the hopes you used to have. Saber teeth tigers leer down from high ledges, ready to pounce and **** out my resolve- while I flutter- whirl- and waver- in existence; teetering on the edge of perception, of failure; There is no color in these devoid cities, no happiness held in these forlorn faces, no smiles to stoke a burnt-out heart; Just me- dancing- twirling- leaping- hoping - trying- to make you remember yourself.

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Feb 8, 2014

Feb 8, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC

chauntelle-laflen

Sidewalks to Memory

Barren empty sidewalks gray and unforgiving, winding on in never-ending concrete roads; making un-melodic thumping sounds as my feet rhythmically step- dance- and twirl- Cold and lifeless buildings, garter-ed in girders of steel and glass; reflecting everyone's business- every nosy little thought, every scathing deadly glance; Steep towers of frozen brokers, daggering into other's precious dreams, and optimism- like the person you used to be, like the hopes you used to have. Saber teeth tigers leer down from high ledges, ready to pounce and **** out my resolve- while I flutter- whirl- and waver- in existence; teetering on the edge of perception, of failure; There is no color in these devoid cities, no happiness held in these forlorn faces, no smiles to stoke a burnt-out heart; Just me- dancing- twirling- leaping- hoping - trying- to make you remember yourself.

35

Because With me, I walk blindly forward as my mess is overturned behind me as I sulken dream. To turn round eventually I find all that’s been done, with me left to tidy - to replenish and erase the mess that has already ******* spread rapidly into every corner of my insides. The lights go off when it burns off and the ashes tend to tell of time wasted of thirst and sense of waiting for his return. I’m then diving into the spiral of aftermath that leaves itself to solve without answers. Heart stretches further and further away from its halves to avoid being engulfed by incoming wave which floods of knowing I would never have you. And now the pen I resist from daggering into my wrist so it’s ink can bleed into my insides with mellow wordly turmoil. - See though, alone I thought I was safe. But those words that dropped out her mouth so unimpeachably illustrated you breaking into me. At that very moment. And unleashing the demons from their cage. I think I feel them gnawing now.

0

Apr 16, 2018

Apr 16, 2018 at 5:28 PM UTC

carminayasmin

in need of a housemaid

Because With me, I walk blindly forward as my mess is overturned behind me as I sulken dream. To turn round eventually I find all that’s been done, with me left to tidy - to replenish and erase the mess that has already ******* spread rapidly into every corner of my insides. The lights go off when it burns off and the ashes tend to tell of time wasted of thirst and sense of waiting for his return. I’m then diving into the spiral of aftermath that leaves itself to solve without answers. Heart stretches further and further away from its halves to avoid being engulfed by incoming wave which floods of knowing I would never have you. And now the pen I resist from daggering into my wrist so it’s ink can bleed into my insides with mellow wordly turmoil. - See though, alone I thought I was safe. But those words that dropped out her mouth so unimpeachably illustrated you breaking into me. At that very moment. And unleashing the demons from their cage. I think I feel them gnawing now.

6

Eyes laser lock into mine Broad white hands grip my hips and like lion like wolf like the night I'm pulled onto your aching mouth Violent with longing I dance with and against you While the air crackling wet and hot moves around us with the sharp smell of fevered impatience. Our searching fingers ****** into each other's hair, My curls spiraling your ear like a witch's vise, yours dark-straight and otter-slick, daggering and slicing my open skin. The brine from your forehead oceans me As you pour yourself into every pore of my body seeking the source, seeking infinity, and I'm tasting you, wanting you, my senses overwhelmed by your driving desire, Every synapse is pin point and I'm dangerous as I try to hold onto this massiveness this urgency to burn and meld with you as we fling ourselves into the abyss of a dying sun and shatter into a million fragments...

0

Oct 18, 2020

Oct 18, 2020 at 6:16 AM UTC

traci-sims

Heavy

Eyes laser lock into mine Broad white hands grip my hips and like lion like wolf like the night I'm pulled onto your aching mouth Violent with longing I dance with and against you While the air crackling wet and hot moves around us with the sharp smell of fevered impatience. Our searching fingers ****** into each other's hair, My curls spiraling your ear like a witch's vise, yours dark-straight and otter-slick, daggering and slicing my open skin. The brine from your forehead oceans me As you pour yourself into every pore of my body seeking the source, seeking infinity, and I'm tasting you, wanting you, my senses overwhelmed by your driving desire, Every synapse is pin point and I'm dangerous as I try to hold onto this massiveness this urgency to burn and meld with you as we fling ourselves into the abyss of a dying sun and shatter into a million fragments...

17