"forted" poems - Hello Poetry

Some people are of God, The thinning of their sole, torn shoes and worn clothes tell the tale only hearts of God hear. How blessed, for their treasure lies within, no fear of loss, no fear of pain because the glacier of faith they carry within is too magnificent to be beautified, yet too fearsome to let any fear linger around the edges. Everyone of us is a keeper of that glacier. It's only, that the burns sometimes melt the forted edges of iceberg of faith. But the keeper knows exactly when it happens, and when it can happen. And do we not sometimes melt and do we not always gather our blistering crystals, do we not bear the burns on our palms and yet we stand strongest after the burning waves of fate pass on? It melts, it smoothes, it shapes and after all the carvings in the keeper's castle, makes him even more majestic.

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Jul 3, 2015

Jul 3, 2015 at 7:24 AM UTC

sana

When you gathered your blistering crystals.

Some people are of God, The thinning of their sole, torn shoes and worn clothes tell the tale only hearts of God hear. How blessed, for their treasure lies within, no fear of loss, no fear of pain because the glacier of faith they carry within is too magnificent to be beautified, yet too fearsome to let any fear linger around the edges. Everyone of us is a keeper of that glacier. It's only, that the burns sometimes melt the forted edges of iceberg of faith. But the keeper knows exactly when it happens, and when it can happen. And do we not sometimes melt and do we not always gather our blistering crystals, do we not bear the burns on our palms and yet we stand strongest after the burning waves of fate pass on? It melts, it smoothes, it shapes and after all the carvings in the keeper's castle, makes him even more majestic.

3

My strength trickles in drops from forted edges of my majestic iceberg So I shrug off and veil my soul with cloak of coldness till coldness pervades and freezes my shattered crystal drops till each one of it becomes part of my whole again.

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Mar 29, 2015

Mar 29, 2015 at 7:21 AM UTC

sana

I gather my strength

My strength trickles in drops from forted edges of my majestic iceberg So I shrug off and veil my soul with cloak of coldness till coldness pervades and freezes my shattered crystal drops till each one of it becomes part of my whole again.

2

A reading of this poem is here: https://youtu.be/pAIgogKxcNA?list=PLBxu_QsDqWVXmIytZbwojqP6VwFcC5xeZ ___________________________________________________ He died that night. His chin a mesh of wet, broken asphalt, blood and glistening white flesh. What did you want? A quirky dialogue, a dose of fiction and science, a ******* poem Jesus! I said it glistened, didn’t I? Damply reflecting his solitary and meaningless life that he had built up to be something more something wonderfully significant This must be a pathetic assault on the indignity of the world It’s lack of acceptance for My total loneliness among the pattering drops and the dosed lights hazing and incomprehensible forted, feigning, but there A physical barrier that pretends to be. That’s kind of like the guy. How convenient! Are you following? The lights were the last thing he probably saw. but there in the peaceful death did he gasp one last word? A cliche. Is that better? An improvement upon self-referring, concept refraining, phrase like a sustaining note struck by a hammer struck by a white key struck by bone and flesh a resonation resigning to a precious exit, honoring the one thing he valued? Are we getting somewhere now? Did the alliterative foiled words help to unwrap the meaning of this poor ***** last breath? No. But I recall a gurgle followed by a splurch of blood and his eyes so fiercely clenched cowardly denying the wet moment as he died that night And I meant to leave the ****** apostrophe out This is art @Macbigicekeys

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Jun 8, 2017

Jun 8, 2017 at 4:21 PM UTC

m-bigicekeys

Inner Critic

A reading of this poem is here: https://youtu.be/pAIgogKxcNA?list=PLBxu_QsDqWVXmIytZbwojqP6VwFcC5xeZ ___________________________________________________ He died that night. His chin a mesh of wet, broken asphalt, blood and glistening white flesh. What did you want? A quirky dialogue, a dose of fiction and science, a ******* poem Jesus! I said it glistened, didn’t I? Damply reflecting his solitary and meaningless life that he had built up to be something more something wonderfully significant This must be a pathetic assault on the indignity of the world It’s lack of acceptance for My total loneliness among the pattering drops and the dosed lights hazing and incomprehensible forted, feigning, but there A physical barrier that pretends to be. That’s kind of like the guy. How convenient! Are you following? The lights were the last thing he probably saw. but there in the peaceful death did he gasp one last word? A cliche. Is that better? An improvement upon self-referring, concept refraining, phrase like a sustaining note struck by a hammer struck by a white key struck by bone and flesh a resonation resigning to a precious exit, honoring the one thing he valued? Are we getting somewhere now? Did the alliterative foiled words help to unwrap the meaning of this poor ***** last breath? No. But I recall a gurgle followed by a splurch of blood and his eyes so fiercely clenched cowardly denying the wet moment as he died that night And I meant to leave the ****** apostrophe out This is art @Macbigicekeys

34

Smoke rings ring my Father's song Like floating stanza's Of years now gone With forted form They levitate Then slowly Mistily Dissipate

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Sep 14, 2016

Sep 14, 2016 at 6:36 PM UTC

BillyMac56

Smoke Rings

Smoke rings ring my Father's song Like floating stanza's Of years now gone With forted form They levitate Then slowly Mistily Dissipate

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