Enwombed poems on Hello Poetry

Hanson Yang Jun 2018

Time

the grasps of my **** as the holder of time to the scales, as if it was my *******: desired inclined of all women of latter time as it's extension of the scaled respective independent selfish ******* as length in time as metered to overtaking body erradicating speed as colloidial motion distressed dementia slowing of all intensity asto contrast of haste of carried love as given of best length as best muscle wide ribbed real phenomenah constituted factuality enters the member of divided all penetrable imaginable intensity of the attitude assertive attentive of the yearn-craved-of all the famish as if actual shared intoaslike reality factual forlorned of the ****** engagement as the cunninlingus hunger of your taste lipped to each attention assertive command of the tongue to sense of even ambrosial scent as if dripping from tongue as licking of even like the contact of the mouth encumbers soul erogenous eroticmentality of the attitude inasif heat intensified feelings of desire attentive controlled of lust as this finality driven to of the seen as actuality of time as desire and as to it's **** as if normalcy actual constant submissively yields to the haste in time as both too and including of all bodies to greet my being as this sexuality superior with my body and **** englistened measured as twisted entertwined range of aim of all bodies to lust of thisity whatness of all to mynest time in relativity of all to feel me as my body pushes up and down ******* eager motion arched to back dig palm ******* as to the ensimultitide momentum as all here chosen existent pristine envinciation of as invincibility is sacrificed for as if ****** to ****** pain pain without ******* in all of every real time experience enverbatim and seen enwombed married by what just written;

Jesse stillwater Aug 2018

Marooned

Marooned  land-locked
    on  island  earth

Born with an orphan’s
    unknowable ache

Born with an empath heart
– always feeling too much –
mystic receptors wide awake
    in a highly sensitive soul

It’s as if I've walked along
      forever alone,
    one step at a time,
    lost in a restless nebula
from the earth to the moon

Consciously dreaming
      to steal away,
bearing the weight of the sky,
upwards over the mountain,
away from these chains
        that bind

    The maelstroms echo
behind silenced, probing eyes
with an unsated thirst
      to be wanted
    dead or otherwise:

Never understanding
    the reasons why,
spinning around in my head;
where "once upon a time"
        was hidden,
        buried alive

A lifetime spent trying
    to unlearn the things
    I wish I’d never
    sought to know,
    clinging to the love
I've touched in my life
  evermore enwombed
       in my heart

    Passing milestones:
walking another barefoot mile
passing so many locked doors
    without keyholes
– way outside the lines –

    Choking on all
    the latent words
      lay fallow,
      left unsaid
Always looking for
something dreamt
but seldom manifest

Growing so tired and weary
with no one standing by my side;
no one to lay down beside me
    to take a rest for awhile

Just another chapter
in a timeless same old story;
  another dark star
      burned – out
      – vanished –
into the utter obscurity
of a sky so close and yet
      so far away...

Jesse Stillwater ... August 22, 2018

Thank you for reading ...

#marooned #introspective #empath #thoughts #hsp #stillwater

Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018

⚜ Lily in the Snow II ⚜

The zephyrs run rampant from the heavy
clouds, one that the balcony Beauty fully
    embraces.
                      Clad in her yearning garments, a dress of
    snow silk-satin with a thigh- high slit and
a frilled silk-hem.
                           Whose arms are raised towards
Winter's melody-
The zephyr's caress ever so gentle,
     her dress flutters like a dove's wing in delight,
stroking her slim feet,
her flushing heels-
It makes briefly escaping being enwombed
   by the shades of her room; the anti-chamber
                   of her heart's greatest desire,
  where many tears are shed.
                                         a maid born of the mild moon-
                                                                                    Kourê.
The Sun at its zenith pales in comparison to
her beauty.
Her face, sonnet sweet-
        Her voice, heaven's hymn-
Her lashes, argent's flutter-
Her eyes, cerulean haunts-
                   Her body, fragrant; a slender willow-
                       Her hair, silver-aurorian blaze, held up
by a star-studded parrot's clip.
Snow bejewels her divine lids, down to those
rosette buds that make her lips.
                  Despite it all, melancholy has a grip her
features-
      She is one who pays little to earthly riches,
for it provides comfort in slivers
Thoughts of flowers rest far from the altars
of her mind, for her mind is clouded by
             the thoughts of him-
He who she hopes to see and hold once more.
As he gave her word that he would return
from his journey, leaving her in the palace;
             his hand pulling the black gates.

153 followers?! THANK YOU!!!!
*Sending hugs all around!*
Part two of my free-verse poem, one more to go!
Hope you like it
Criticism is welcome!
Lyn ***

#lily #fantasy #snow #lost #love #yearning #archaic #gothic #myth #story

Chalice Divine Nov 2013

Underbelly

The underbelly of my ego;
limpid, wrinkled carpet
of scars, petty thoughts,
and fearful self-machination.

Cold as a mottled monologue;
Selfish and maudlin
as a sneaky sot,
stealing affection from strangers.

It lurks in the alley of mind;
sinuous and grim
with cynical ire,
waiting to devour my dreams.

Approaching Creativity;
sweet progenitor of
color, light, and lift,
it pounces with dull, fiery claw.

Dripping venom and phantasm;
slayer of fairy tales
barely enwombed,
heartless Avatar of failure.

This then is my secret battle;
to slay and triumph
and win clear the way,
so the children of my light survive.

neth jones Aug 2018

SlumberBrine [or The Whale]

I Sleep ;
I Slip
In Doze, I Seep out into the Scenes ;

In Potions Deep
In Notions Cold and Preasuring
I Fit and Knit my Crown
I Coral
I Knot and Concrete a Frown
But though I Invite my Efforts
My Thoughting is Leaks and Tearing *

Over Whale but Underwater
I Recover Nothing Reassuring
Slowing to a Pale
In Ocean Cold
My Feedings are Slurring to a Drown
My Motions ; Enwombed and Collected
An Unfoetal, my Body Undertakes a Vulnerable Mould

Above
The Surface
The Ship Blinks, on Fire
And Gifts from the Broken Hold Sink to me
It's all a Wink Directed at me
A Humour

But I am become Prepared Still
For the Next Life
I Discard, Decending Still
A Treat Sunk Below
A Monsterous Breakfast

*note : as in, secreting saline, watery fluid

#slumber #brine #whale #ocean #sleep #ship #underwater #pale #feeding #motion

traces of being Nov 2016

the dark wind

.
life lives with or without you ,..

but what will become of
the unwritten psalms ,..
when the darkness will not sleep (?)!

that like the murmur in the shell,
its echo dwelleth and will dwell

like a black swan of loneliness
enwombed in a whiter shade of pale

*wilder blows the dark wind

November 20, 2016
Post script:

saved from slowly falling off the ledge
saved from the dour within myself
saved by an angel of mercy who said:

"they can only meet you as deeply as
they have met themselves"

Thank you, JV ―
your poetry, empathy and muse
heal wounded wings
and bewildered souls
with love's gentle touch ,
an iron hand in a velvet glove

... sometimes too deep is something to be
when you've got mountains to move

#spilledpoetry

Hayley Neininger Oct 2011

God.

my spine grows further and further
up my neck it releases seeds of thought
upblooming in my very heavy head
weeds and flowers alike it drops
enwombed in my crescent head
the weeds grow right
the flowers grow left
each soil my mind with beauty and reason
the flowers they speak
of creating and love all other things ascetic
the weeds teach me logic, numbers, and phrases
they warn me of anything poetic
I am inclined to deny my bias for either
For such a balance they create
But as of late I am pruning my mind with deft
And find that I am of Ehud’s left.

J J Oct 2019

A whole ocean reflected in a falling raindrop

Prickly morning sun strings up
      the hair on her arms as she gazes,
watching the waves bobble and weave and listening
to their dead seashells and shellfish;
       ricketing and momentarily floating.

For a moment, her heart is the ocean.
  Always beating and providing life without
knowing why. She sighs and begins to forget she is lost--
The synthetic shores of everyday life at her backfoot,
   the burning sand ridden with childhood memories.
She slowly allows it to dissapear
and recaptures a piece of her self
                                                              in return;

Belonging to this ocean as much she does the sky it reflects.

Calling, lamenting her name without a word, the ocean
     lullabies her soothing sighs, falling rythmatically now--
Raindrops disinter the clouds and tickle the rythm
     of her pulse. Soft, soft backing instrument to her final
            calling. There is no need to look around again;

There is no guard in sight. The prickly sunshine fades
  To ruthless cold air and she walks forward, mouth agape
        and ready

For the ocean to swallow her and recapture her, entombed,
     enwombed forever more.

#ocean #suicide #rebirth #trauma #rest #sad #mirror #depression #sea #drown

Hanson Yang Feb 2018

God Of Mars As Man

I’ll have every female ****** up with just my smile of my teeth
Till I’m eating you out with all of my welfare smile that I scored from EBT
I’ll have every female ****** up till enwombed married, then give all of you wrinkles
Like just sellin all my cd covers like we’re to marry at kinkos
I’ll have every female see that I’ve made it at battle heights
Till I’m searching through all of your phones for more women like I owned every satellite
I’ll have you overeating food like my soul was in marriage desperation
Have you thinkin wedding like every pound of my *** in *******
I’ll have every female ****** up collecting poetry like Irish things
To have you scared while I’m swinging my fist at your belly to all of you when pregnant when I’m smelling like Irish spring

Ylang Ylang May 2022

Solace

‌‌ ‌
Long for
Sweet chambers
Of this Palace

Water of violet of
its fountains
Flowed in peace
down its walls
Marble down its
chill halls
Moon glowed
Mirrored

No drought in its
Nocturnal embrace
And satin enwombed
Us
Into a sweet tomb

Brought
What ever & who ever
When bells call
Into its satin womb
Sweetly
We fall
Back

I am capable of doing
Impossible things
Inside of my crimson chamber
You know

As I travel
The marks on skin glow
& Songs have no shape
Songs have no shape
‌‌ ‌

J J Oct 2019

A valentine. Yours truly, Ed Gein

When we die I hope we are reborn as ourselves.
I'd love to meet and fall in love with you
     All over again.

I wish I could unzip your skull and
Caress your brain until you drifted off to
     Sleep. Feeling your dreams

Weave, the circuits entangle and worry
    Unstress at my fingertips.
I wish I could kiss every bad memory

Until there is only us.
I wish we were both happy all the time
And I know that's impossible, but some days

You make it feel so possible, so near, my dearest.

I wish we could float in space with no other company,
Drift until the earth gets lost with the stars, held tightly

At one another's wrists. Beating. Beating. Beating

     Condensed sea's and eidetic sky's.
        I wish I could display my love properly;

Beyond words, beyond flesh,

We are two thirds of a lifetime

And it's one I'll never grow sick of
For as long as you are in my company.

For the moment, hold me close, hold me closer
And let us dream alongside one another, knowing
      Our dreams consist of the other;

Their well-being, their sacrifices, their fears, theirs gripes--
   Their flaws and perks held deep and impeccably still

As a jade flower enwombed to the rarest, blackest of jewels.

As a pulsating constance. As a spectral echo. As a lover
Found and never wanting to fall lost ever again. Yet,

When I die I hope I am rewinded back to my very
First memory. I would love to forget you. Love to hold you
For the very first time for the billionth consecutive time

Without even knowing...

I would love to feel the emptiness that was a world
   Before it was made beautiful, feeling life become something
To be cherished. From first sight to the last, never let me go

And pass alongside me,
Moving throughout me

Some days I think I feel your every heartbeat.
Some days I sense you can feel mine. Be mine and let me be yours.
Whatever may come, whatever may go.
Stay with me and we can outshine any circumstance.

You are my circumstance. You are my beating heart.
You are my life and you my reason for wanting to love myself.

A bit serial killer-ly, hence the title. Love is so hard to express. I think that's the takeaway from this poem. I hope it came out as messily as intended.

#love #corny #mental #eternal #rebirth #wish #best #friend #repitition

Hanson Yang Feb 2018

Omega Lit

getting Lit with my Wives Overtaken every ****- Life as if The Body was created of the Infinite of all beginnings light was body as rolled up to smoke of every cigarette to smoked to “sorrow” of this pride Ends to end;
Ashes to Ashes of every Ideals of every fantasy as if every magnitude of the body of time of space Murdered In Infancy in actuality had never happened that ends pretend;
Of every youth consumed of every mind every time had been lost is why of pain to actually Lived in Ideal fantasy been again;
To every pain in every moment of the Real: Enwombed; had every meeting Mends Amends,
The Infinite-Down Enters Presence-Existence of Every Woman Exit the wounds of Pain begins every man of Man rendered life as “let intent”;
Then again against all motions of all Universals of Time and Space as proof of being “Men-again”
What is this cycle of rather amends of Ends to what actuality pretends is proof of pain as life pretends death in “when”.
Such speech, Such Existence, of such Inferiority Limitations of what such: Being that life Enlivens Of What Omega…

Adam Rabinowitz Sep 2019

Between

Why is the creation
not a story of tears
birth is pain
creation grief
the made is always unmade
the end waits
baleful and patient

There are two eternities of darkness...

The before
Before conquerors enwombed their seeds
shaped like the tears of women
and un-entombed lay the gray
detritus of the fallen
before ancestors were driven
from hearth stumbling
falling on cold roads alone
before empires burned language
onto the tongues of slaves
before iron and bronze
and the moans on the battlefields
of the abandoned
a gangrenous sound
ended only by scavenger’s tooth
or simply cold time

The after
After children's children's children
no longer laughed
at their children’s sweet smiles
after slaves became masters
and even their new language
passed from the memories of mountains
now diminished and gone
after metal ripped from ***** lands
became highways that brought news of tragedies
no-one heard
except those whose hearts were branded
by the heat of the suffering

So this ‘tween light is blinked and short
with all details silhouetted
with all meaning muted
with all comfort from kin or kingdom covered
by the darkness before power
by the darkness after glory
by the darkness forever

WordsandotherTrash Feb 18

Liminal Peace

enwombed
among the
sullen pine
gritty
grainy
grungy
with
past friends
of mine
here we stand
where once
we fell
to
buckskin glove
and
pitchfork tine
on
needled duff
drunk
on
honey wine
alone now
among the
sullen pine
entombed

— The End —