"flightiest" poems - Hello Poetry

This here...my heart is a book Sadness and hope inhabit most pages Marred by past experiences that took Scribbled are the ironies and broken adages Worn pages tainted by the lowest of my days Dark ink leave them smeared and stained Fresh ones stay crisp; free from nays Awaiting dreams and wishes I have not gained Silent are the pages still left unwritten As though I have saved them for something For future chapters yet to happen For you to come and begin your writing Welcome the pen that would herald a new start Imagined it's ink to bear the flightiest notions It would speak in volumes ensnaring the heart It would sing a song with the sweetest of emotions Seep in, dear ink, into my pages past and new Seep through, dear ink, feel free to make your mark Seep strong, dear ink, maybe you could undo Seep true, dear ink, and bring light to the dark But rip not the old for they forever will speak Lessons that are learnt, strength that was bestowed Tears that's been shed, happiness that I seek Gloom that was braved, hope that I have sowed Come, my heart is your book You are the sole pen to my infinite pages Ink are your words that would fill every nook Eternal is the bond that would last through ages This here...the rest of the pages are yours Occupy them as you have in my everyday I was saving them not knowing my course Almost as if I knew you'd come to pen the words you'd say A promise as sure as the sun would rise A promise made as good as the noblest of men My book is open to our laughs and cries As long as you would forever remain my pen

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Aug 26, 2014

Aug 26, 2014 at 6:06 AM UTC

ryn

Pen

This here...my heart is a book Sadness and hope inhabit most pages Marred by past experiences that took Scribbled are the ironies and broken adages Worn pages tainted by the lowest of my days Dark ink leave them smeared and stained Fresh ones stay crisp; free from nays Awaiting dreams and wishes I have not gained Silent are the pages still left unwritten As though I have saved them for something For future chapters yet to happen For you to come and begin your writing Welcome the pen that would herald a new start Imagined it's ink to bear the flightiest notions It would speak in volumes ensnaring the heart It would sing a song with the sweetest of emotions Seep in, dear ink, into my pages past and new Seep through, dear ink, feel free to make your mark Seep strong, dear ink, maybe you could undo Seep true, dear ink, and bring light to the dark But rip not the old for they forever will speak Lessons that are learnt, strength that was bestowed Tears that's been shed, happiness that I seek Gloom that was braved, hope that I have sowed Come, my heart is your book You are the sole pen to my infinite pages Ink are your words that would fill every nook Eternal is the bond that would last through ages This here...the rest of the pages are yours Occupy them as you have in my everyday I was saving them not knowing my course Almost as if I knew you'd come to pen the words you'd say A promise as sure as the sun would rise A promise made as good as the noblest of men My book is open to our laughs and cries As long as you would forever remain my pen

35

i get lost on purpose drive into the mountains like maybe i’m waiting for a cliff like maybe route 44 will go off the grid unmap itself from my neurons and from google both i brake disgusted reminded of the guy who took the hairpin too fast and didn’t even make a dent in the ridge reminded how it looms so large with every rev till all i see is rock , road , and impossibly the flightiest glimpse of vanishing point so distant from the guy who escaped the sky i pull over next to smoking trucks and their smoking drivers silhouetted against a valley so vast it may as well be nothing a pipedream projected somewhere beyond some etching from the silurian period that i won’t understand (not even when i’m older) i’m sorry i’m late i get lost on purpose but i still repeat myself: the second the county signs change color i’m shivering at the lookout i'm swinging around and glancing nervously at the sun i'm slamming my brakes at the hairpin neither earth nor air nor new just home. sorry i’m late but i’m here. i parked at the end of the driveway like always.

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Sep 22, 2024

Sep 22, 2024 at 10:56 AM UTC

blanketings

revolving doors, what have i done?

i get lost on purpose drive into the mountains like maybe i’m waiting for a cliff like maybe route 44 will go off the grid unmap itself from my neurons and from google both i brake disgusted reminded of the guy who took the hairpin too fast and didn’t even make a dent in the ridge reminded how it looms so large with every rev till all i see is rock , road , and impossibly the flightiest glimpse of vanishing point so distant from the guy who escaped the sky i pull over next to smoking trucks and their smoking drivers silhouetted against a valley so vast it may as well be nothing a pipedream projected somewhere beyond some etching from the silurian period that i won’t understand (not even when i’m older) i’m sorry i’m late i get lost on purpose but i still repeat myself: the second the county signs change color i’m shivering at the lookout i'm swinging around and glancing nervously at the sun i'm slamming my brakes at the hairpin neither earth nor air nor new just home. sorry i’m late but i’m here. i parked at the end of the driveway like always.

34

Angel, fallen from on high, to shine ethreal light, just above the face of I who am blessed. That your decention is made harrows the mind, but blind bliss covers any reason like sugar. That you look on me with those golden cloud eyes, precious is your gaze, is magic in itself. It's something that had been impossible in the flightiest dream of the latest night. What my own eyes behold, as much as such things may hold burning beauty, are more thankful than I could ever hope to say. Darling Angel, could you find it in your own to gift me with your words? Through the times that I've been graced with these pearls, through the glamour of it all, I've begun to realize what your words are really like. Dark, lush rose petals, stumble and flow from behind your teeth, filling your tounge with plump redness that soothes my ears, and captures the curves and sways of my heart. Like a sunrise or washing tide, this feeling that pulls at my throat and chest leaves me almost breathless, creating a bridge of tangible tension supported by our locking eyes. With each attempt to express what mortal words I may stutter, my breath leaves me just as quickly as I attempt to speak, building our silent bond.

0

Jun 5, 2010

Jun 5, 2010 at 1:31 PM UTC

victoria-gore

Talking to an Angel

Angel, fallen from on high, to shine ethreal light, just above the face of I who am blessed. That your decention is made harrows the mind, but blind bliss covers any reason like sugar. That you look on me with those golden cloud eyes, precious is your gaze, is magic in itself. It's something that had been impossible in the flightiest dream of the latest night. What my own eyes behold, as much as such things may hold burning beauty, are more thankful than I could ever hope to say. Darling Angel, could you find it in your own to gift me with your words? Through the times that I've been graced with these pearls, through the glamour of it all, I've begun to realize what your words are really like. Dark, lush rose petals, stumble and flow from behind your teeth, filling your tounge with plump redness that soothes my ears, and captures the curves and sways of my heart. Like a sunrise or washing tide, this feeling that pulls at my throat and chest leaves me almost breathless, creating a bridge of tangible tension supported by our locking eyes. With each attempt to express what mortal words I may stutter, my breath leaves me just as quickly as I attempt to speak, building our silent bond.

18