"facetted" poems - Hello Poetry

I fill my soul, my heart, my head, And then try, through my fingers, To tame it, calm it, dilute it. To take the raw and make it something less agonizing, To hold, to clutch to myself, to weave into my skin, I build a fire and hope it won’t burn all the way through me, and the floor as well. There are the times when I revel in the glow. And there are times when I consign myself to be nothing more than a pillar of ash, Easily swept away by a passing brezze. Yet to cease, Is to unweave my core, To let holes stretch, Till I am more void then girl. To never feel a blue so mesmerizing that its very existents taunts me to catch it on paper, Never spend hours trapping butterfly wings on the tip of my pen. Never see the subtle moments where life is gut wrenchingly, woefully, utterly, complete, That fraction of a second where the sun breaks the clouds into a sea of many facetted pillars of amaranth , so tangible I second guess their existence, and turning back see that the sun has sunken beyond the horizon. The instant where a man and his dog glance up in perfect unison, a single being with six legs, four eyes, and one heart. A first flash of scarlet upon jade, the cherries hang ripe and inviting, tiny globes flashing from behind their leafy bower, as of yet untouched by bird or clumsy human hand. And so I write.

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Nov 26, 2011

Nov 26, 2011 at 2:35 AM UTC

di

To Write or Not to Write

I fill my soul, my heart, my head, And then try, through my fingers, To tame it, calm it, dilute it. To take the raw and make it something less agonizing, To hold, to clutch to myself, to weave into my skin, I build a fire and hope it won’t burn all the way through me, and the floor as well. There are the times when I revel in the glow. And there are times when I consign myself to be nothing more than a pillar of ash, Easily swept away by a passing brezze. Yet to cease, Is to unweave my core, To let holes stretch, Till I am more void then girl. To never feel a blue so mesmerizing that its very existents taunts me to catch it on paper, Never spend hours trapping butterfly wings on the tip of my pen. Never see the subtle moments where life is gut wrenchingly, woefully, utterly, complete, That fraction of a second where the sun breaks the clouds into a sea of many facetted pillars of amaranth , so tangible I second guess their existence, and turning back see that the sun has sunken beyond the horizon. The instant where a man and his dog glance up in perfect unison, a single being with six legs, four eyes, and one heart. A first flash of scarlet upon jade, the cherries hang ripe and inviting, tiny globes flashing from behind their leafy bower, as of yet untouched by bird or clumsy human hand. And so I write.

20

Her eyes they shine The deepest blue, matching the sky In the evening, looking off east O’er the Cascades, latest July Through smoke roasting leg of beast Can’t look away, though I do try, My mind recoils from the feast. Across the office, right at lunch I notice the tumbling sea Crashing waves cause pebbles to crunch Tsunami rolls in, wild and free Afraid to move, I ponder brunch And ask those eyes to come with me Across the table, crystal clear Aquamarine gemstones shine bright Facetted perfect shed no tear Refracting starlight in the night Bringing me peace, removing fear Those eyes make me feel I’m alright

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Apr 11, 2015

Apr 11, 2015 at 3:44 PM UTC

s-lyman-temple

stylistic imitation of Lord Byron

Her eyes they shine The deepest blue, matching the sky In the evening, looking off east O’er the Cascades, latest July Through smoke roasting leg of beast Can’t look away, though I do try, My mind recoils from the feast. Across the office, right at lunch I notice the tumbling sea Crashing waves cause pebbles to crunch Tsunami rolls in, wild and free Afraid to move, I ponder brunch And ask those eyes to come with me Across the table, crystal clear Aquamarine gemstones shine bright Facetted perfect shed no tear Refracting starlight in the night Bringing me peace, removing fear Those eyes make me feel I’m alright

19

Sat in the sanctuary of prickly peace. Pit of sweet slumber. Scrutinising the rain as it paints ornate pictures on my window. It's calling out. Glass glimmering. Pane quivering to the beat of the raindrops that pound. Beating the window, before greeting the ground. Bouncing and dancing as whirling ballerinas. Facetted diamonds. They're dripping from fronds. Hanging from ferns. The rain's falling fast in sparkling wet gemstones. Having a blast. Twisted on wind. Winding and crashing. Hear them calling clamorously, Hail us all warm dry cab. For soon they shall be melting. (C) LIVVI

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Sep 21, 2015

Sep 21, 2015 at 12:33 PM UTC

olivia-kent

GLASSY GiANTS

Sat in the sanctuary of prickly peace. Pit of sweet slumber. Scrutinising the rain as it paints ornate pictures on my window. It's calling out. Glass glimmering. Pane quivering to the beat of the raindrops that pound. Beating the window, before greeting the ground. Bouncing and dancing as whirling ballerinas. Facetted diamonds. They're dripping from fronds. Hanging from ferns. The rain's falling fast in sparkling wet gemstones. Having a blast. Twisted on wind. Winding and crashing. Hear them calling clamorously, Hail us all warm dry cab. For soon they shall be melting. (C) LIVVI

19

Tree as the bridge in the confrontation of the sky and earth Fell the light for eternity in a sand pellet by expressing With a hand, the outcome of the day, and I as before try to Having created you haven't created Mine is bought a debt in process of the birth Frames of shoulders of equipments are forgotten The way facetted by printing of the answer On desert brigs the old man Camel smoked It is cloudy as if smoke is a new scene of area Here only I burn, breath of convention I will draw precisely on a stone a line of missing basicity I won't see you All result of absolute. I discovered that there is there The Abyss, the personality and the circle.

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Oct 20, 2018

Oct 20, 2018 at 5:59 PM UTC

Maximilian

God smokes Camel

Tree as the bridge in the confrontation of the sky and earth Fell the light for eternity in a sand pellet by expressing With a hand, the outcome of the day, and I as before try to Having created you haven't created Mine is bought a debt in process of the birth Frames of shoulders of equipments are forgotten The way facetted by printing of the answer On desert brigs the old man Camel smoked It is cloudy as if smoke is a new scene of area Here only I burn, breath of convention I will draw precisely on a stone a line of missing basicity I won't see you All result of absolute. I discovered that there is there The Abyss, the personality and the circle.

15

Swollen, hanging on outside corner of just one eye, it dangled diamond like. Offsetting an emerald gaze, that tear held on and it was impossible to know if it would, could, should ever fall. Rays of light from late afternoon cracked as if glass, splintering her reflections. Her juicy tear was holding the whole story back. I would not wish to pull it from her, dab it away. It was, forever now, part of her beauty, facetted upon her face.

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Feb 26, 2016

Feb 26, 2016 at 9:42 AM UTC

pj-poesy

The Tear

Swollen, hanging on outside corner of just one eye, it dangled diamond like. Offsetting an emerald gaze, that tear held on and it was impossible to know if it would, could, should ever fall. Rays of light from late afternoon cracked as if glass, splintering her reflections. Her juicy tear was holding the whole story back. I would not wish to pull it from her, dab it away. It was, forever now, part of her beauty, facetted upon her face.

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