"enscribe" poems - Hello Poetry

We will know no sorrows here.. Dark matter poured taut in ebon plastic, elegent, limber, perched on spikes. Confined in chosen monochrome, so lithe in gritted temper. Full fraught on waves of jaw - smoke, tumble nails from this wretched pelt. Enscribe my will on soft , ribbed, levees Spread and buttered oysters downed , your earthy spices ground against my viscid grin. Now raise the dead in frantic transport Sound the depths of this cracked voice Imagining.... We will know no sorrows here.

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May 6, 2017

May 6, 2017 at 5:16 PM UTC

alistair-william-bullen

Lazarus

We will know no sorrows here.. Dark matter poured taut in ebon plastic, elegent, limber, perched on spikes. Confined in chosen monochrome, so lithe in gritted temper. Full fraught on waves of jaw - smoke, tumble nails from this wretched pelt. Enscribe my will on soft , ribbed, levees Spread and buttered oysters downed , your earthy spices ground against my viscid grin. Now raise the dead in frantic transport Sound the depths of this cracked voice Imagining.... We will know no sorrows here.

17

Since feeling is first, and syntax is lies, To enscribe you, my darling little jay, I would have to ask, "Is there any way?" Not of mimsy guise and anything-dyes, But of nоnce-nonsense and everything-sighs, Keep these thoughts pastiche on a wayward bay, And perhaps leave them, removed on display, Entirely altogether? You are this fool's ". . ." ". . ." as '. . .' but ". . ." Lea ve me ". . ." on, a . . . A skip! for, ". . . & . . ." "can"t; f o r get (love ". . .") and you, ". . ."

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Jan 31, 2020

Jan 31, 2020 at 5:17 PM UTC

MikeAEyslee

My ". . ."

Since feeling is first, and syntax is lies, To enscribe you, my darling little jay, I would have to ask, "Is there any way?" Not of mimsy guise and anything-dyes, But of nоnce-nonsense and everything-sighs, Keep these thoughts pastiche on a wayward bay, And perhaps leave them, removed on display, Entirely altogether? You are this fool's ". . ." ". . ." as '. . .' but ". . ." Lea ve me ". . ." on, a . . . A skip! for, ". . . & . . ." "can"t; f o r get (love ". . .") and you, ". . ."

15

This world is not unchangeable in fact, my veins and yours pulse through, pound out the drum rhythm of marches- changing patterns walking over streets, marking new paths. This world is not unchangeable. I can, at any moment, bring the kingdom of God. I can, at any moment, turn dark into light you can, your skin is the ground your eyes are the oceans, your fingernails carve canyons my heart erupts free-flowing ****** rivers of magma- your heart pours water through arteries of rushing, gouging rivers. This world is not unchangeable. Sadness is not fixated, we do not move within an immoving world of darkness we are the world, we spin it on our joking fingers, we sweat the rain onto fields of good fruit. This world is not unchangeable. We are a changing people, and we are the world so we can change the world. I promise. We forget our own power the instant we forget that we belong here- that we are members of this race, that we are not observers but participants. We forget that we are not alone. But if we, at last, remember that our place is here, at home, that we have value, we regain our ability to mark and enscribe a new history, our own history. This world is not unchangeable. Don't give up.

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Oct 7, 2015

Oct 7, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC

m-48

my hands, your hands

This world is not unchangeable in fact, my veins and yours pulse through, pound out the drum rhythm of marches- changing patterns walking over streets, marking new paths. This world is not unchangeable. I can, at any moment, bring the kingdom of God. I can, at any moment, turn dark into light you can, your skin is the ground your eyes are the oceans, your fingernails carve canyons my heart erupts free-flowing ****** rivers of magma- your heart pours water through arteries of rushing, gouging rivers. This world is not unchangeable. Sadness is not fixated, we do not move within an immoving world of darkness we are the world, we spin it on our joking fingers, we sweat the rain onto fields of good fruit. This world is not unchangeable. We are a changing people, and we are the world so we can change the world. I promise. We forget our own power the instant we forget that we belong here- that we are members of this race, that we are not observers but participants. We forget that we are not alone. But if we, at last, remember that our place is here, at home, that we have value, we regain our ability to mark and enscribe a new history, our own history. This world is not unchangeable. Don't give up.

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