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"hailstone" poems
On an autumn walk at the ides of day I saw birds of a feather fly together away. As they flew over flames In an ides-of-day way They got caught in the weather And so forever became The tall twisted tale That we hear of so much: Two birds with one hailstone, Death from maelstrom above.
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Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 5:11 PM UTC
Lovebirds
On an autumn walk at the ides of day I saw birds of a feather fly together away. As they flew over flames In an ides-of-day way They got caught in the weather And so forever became The tall twisted tale That we hear of so much: Two birds with one hailstone, Death from maelstrom above.
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Mar 8, 2024
Mar 8, 2024 at 12:39 AM UTC
Lovebirds (2024 Repost)
i was sitting drunk alone in a yellow flannel on a dirt and patch grass hill beside an empty picnic table when you sat down said hi my name is sam and i'm tripping face that was no secret judging by the size of your pupils and smile i asked to borrow a layer from your lip-gloss and you happily obliged after verifying i had my circle-circle-dot-dot you laughed hard and said you'd never been this high before when you let me finger you on the ferris wheel with the scene from the hill a distant seven minutes in our past you watched with tears in your eyes and smiled as i pulled my body away from your candy thighs when the ride stopped and stuck my sticky fingers back in my mouth you said you listened to music better with your shirt off and sure enough your ******* perked up like antennae when my fingers slipped under your half-shirt like an innocuous splinter in the great pink epidermal amphitheater you proved to be a nudist burlesque queen wearing a hailstone necklace and a gold coin skirt that jingled when you walked or skipped or rubbed your *** on me i felt so immediately attracted to you and i still do i can see you when i close my eyes dancing free in a delicate psychotropic mushroom haze whispering slap me silly as we walked hand in hand down the hill you kept talking about your girlfriend being jealous of my fatal blue eyes as the music drifted like breath between us your hair was heavy with the smell of mushrooms beer sage and rain we took several overpriced shots of tequila and i lost another six dollars in drink tickets when we spent a whole dj set lying in the grass in the dark with the lights from the stage spraying over our heaving naked sweaty chests with my hand in your gold net skirt and your tongue in my ear the clouds were knotted ropes of wet white cotton the sky became the sea and your fingers found my feverish lips like a cool prayer i looked up through the oak tree porthole to find the strangulated sky whirling in on itself like water in a washing machine and i let a dolphin carry me away out to where the waves were boiling and wild the stars salty and deep
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Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 10:01 PM UTC
suwannee hulaween (official report '15)
i was sitting drunk alone in a yellow flannel on a dirt and patch grass hill beside an empty picnic table when you sat down said hi my name is sam and i'm tripping face that was no secret judging by the size of your pupils and smile i asked to borrow a layer from your lip-gloss and you happily obliged after verifying i had my circle-circle-dot-dot you laughed hard and said you'd never been this high before when you let me finger you on the ferris wheel with the scene from the hill a distant seven minutes in our past you watched with tears in your eyes and smiled as i pulled my body away from your candy thighs when the ride stopped and stuck my sticky fingers back in my mouth you said you listened to music better with your shirt off and sure enough your ******* perked up like antennae when my fingers slipped under your half-shirt like an innocuous splinter in the great pink epidermal amphitheater you proved to be a nudist burlesque queen wearing a hailstone necklace and a gold coin skirt that jingled when you walked or skipped or rubbed your *** on me i felt so immediately attracted to you and i still do i can see you when i close my eyes dancing free in a delicate psychotropic mushroom haze whispering slap me silly as we walked hand in hand down the hill you kept talking about your girlfriend being jealous of my fatal blue eyes as the music drifted like breath between us your hair was heavy with the smell of mushrooms beer sage and rain we took several overpriced shots of tequila and i lost another six dollars in drink tickets when we spent a whole dj set lying in the grass in the dark with the lights from the stage spraying over our heaving naked sweaty chests with my hand in your gold net skirt and your tongue in my ear the clouds were knotted ropes of wet white cotton the sky became the sea and your fingers found my feverish lips like a cool prayer i looked up through the oak tree porthole to find the strangulated sky whirling in on itself like water in a washing machine and i let a dolphin carry me away out to where the waves were boiling and wild the stars salty and deep
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45
What can I say about today... when the ground is red and the sky is grey? It's nothing but a point in time... A solid hailstone from the sky... And where are you now my faithful friend when the sky is grey and the world at its end? Are you at home like inside my mind... Or are you lost in the pictures inside your head?
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Dec 11, 2010
Dec 11, 2010 at 12:37 AM UTC
The Best "Moment" of My Life.
Check in impatiently hauling light luggage - downturned eyes, bundled fifties, skull packed with sickly sugarplum notions Stiff key-card door and three hanger closet - leave your mittens, jacket, and conscience dangling Towels cotton-knit sandpaper no softer than well-trafficked threadbare tawny-port carpet and your hands and feet pretend not to feel it nervously, a bit numbly, you notice her standing with glacial stillness moments away from the foot of the bed Two crooked lampshades and dim headboard lights close their eyes when the mattress springs first compress, the air tingling with dustbunny snowflakes This room is too dark now, something like snowblind, but you don't really want to see do you? Frostbite when she touches you and somehow this bed is more welcoming than your own you'll remember her february fingertips and hailstone hair, a sensation of northerly winds strange how heavy the comforter feels sprawled across your skin you envision an ice slab, see it suffocate a slow-flowing river, and your breath quickens if only because your lungs have been crushed then, just before hypothermia, she leaves, lights off, wallet lighter, you stay whiteknuckled, lightheaded, half-consumed by a snowdrift, beneath the duvet - dazed your tongue sits confused, having asked for peppermints and been given ice cubes instead and when you finally rise, and thaw your limbs and try not the slip on the black ice she always leaves by the door, Try to forget you paid hourly rates and shed your clothes that you might find warmpth in a blizzard
0
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 6:29 PM UTC
House of the Never Setting Sun
Check in impatiently hauling light luggage - downturned eyes, bundled fifties, skull packed with sickly sugarplum notions Stiff key-card door and three hanger closet - leave your mittens, jacket, and conscience dangling Towels cotton-knit sandpaper no softer than well-trafficked threadbare tawny-port carpet and your hands and feet pretend not to feel it nervously, a bit numbly, you notice her standing with glacial stillness moments away from the foot of the bed Two crooked lampshades and dim headboard lights close their eyes when the mattress springs first compress, the air tingling with dustbunny snowflakes This room is too dark now, something like snowblind, but you don't really want to see do you? Frostbite when she touches you and somehow this bed is more welcoming than your own you'll remember her february fingertips and hailstone hair, a sensation of northerly winds strange how heavy the comforter feels sprawled across your skin you envision an ice slab, see it suffocate a slow-flowing river, and your breath quickens if only because your lungs have been crushed then, just before hypothermia, she leaves, lights off, wallet lighter, you stay whiteknuckled, lightheaded, half-consumed by a snowdrift, beneath the duvet - dazed your tongue sits confused, having asked for peppermints and been given ice cubes instead and when you finally rise, and thaw your limbs and try not the slip on the black ice she always leaves by the door, Try to forget you paid hourly rates and shed your clothes that you might find warmpth in a blizzard
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72
Weary eyed shop workers curse the sight of dawn, A drunken Hen stumbles and her tutu gets torn, The smell of burning chip fat invades my nose, ‘Chips for breakfast?!’ I cry, chewing marshmallows, I venture towards the tower feeling free as a bird, When SPLAT on my shoe lands a seagull **** Rough with the smooth - that’s what this town’s all about, I think as a man pulls his Jokebooks out, ‘It’s for charity!’ he lies. ‘I live here mate..’ ‘Oh right, soz love, fancy a date?’’ I ignore the geezer and gaze out to the sea, Wondering where the Lochness Monster might be.. Soaking up the sights as 2 drunks start to fight, ‘OI’ I shout, as a kid sets a bin alight. Skaters jump like kangaroos on the bandstand, As health freaks tut, running rapid on the sand. Children charge like apes in supersensory mazes, While parents eye arcades with terror on their faces, Suddenly crisp packets dance in the air, As the wind picks up and whips at my hair. ‘It’s hometime for me!’ A hailstone hits my eyeball, And the blue sky runs behind some grey clouds of storm, There’s not many places with 4 seasons in a day! So don’t let the weather throw you into disarray. ‘Blackpool’ I say, ‘a town of stark contrast…’ As a horse driven carriage then a rat stroll past. A town to make memories no matter how worn, That time never erases as new ones get born. Back in Bispham, where the prom’s a bit safer, The oldies don’t buy 3 Hammers, just pies and papers, I step off the number 11 bus and shout ‘Thanks!’ The bus driver grunts, takes his hand out his pants, Then speeds down our beautiful, glistening prom, Full of lights that probably shouldn’t still be on.
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Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 4:16 PM UTC
Bright Lights Ablaze
Weary eyed shop workers curse the sight of dawn, A drunken Hen stumbles and her tutu gets torn, The smell of burning chip fat invades my nose, ‘Chips for breakfast?!’ I cry, chewing marshmallows, I venture towards the tower feeling free as a bird, When SPLAT on my shoe lands a seagull **** Rough with the smooth - that’s what this town’s all about, I think as a man pulls his Jokebooks out, ‘It’s for charity!’ he lies. ‘I live here mate..’ ‘Oh right, soz love, fancy a date?’’ I ignore the geezer and gaze out to the sea, Wondering where the Lochness Monster might be.. Soaking up the sights as 2 drunks start to fight, ‘OI’ I shout, as a kid sets a bin alight. Skaters jump like kangaroos on the bandstand, As health freaks tut, running rapid on the sand. Children charge like apes in supersensory mazes, While parents eye arcades with terror on their faces, Suddenly crisp packets dance in the air, As the wind picks up and whips at my hair. ‘It’s hometime for me!’ A hailstone hits my eyeball, And the blue sky runs behind some grey clouds of storm, There’s not many places with 4 seasons in a day! So don’t let the weather throw you into disarray. ‘Blackpool’ I say, ‘a town of stark contrast…’ As a horse driven carriage then a rat stroll past. A town to make memories no matter how worn, That time never erases as new ones get born. Back in Bispham, where the prom’s a bit safer, The oldies don’t buy 3 Hammers, just pies and papers, I step off the number 11 bus and shout ‘Thanks!’ The bus driver grunts, takes his hand out his pants, Then speeds down our beautiful, glistening prom, Full of lights that probably shouldn’t still be on.
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34
How could you be so out of times, my child? The clock goes tick tock, but you are - Enframed; untouchable How could time be so frozen in your mind. Enframed, untouched, what could you say to get yourself out of this mess? The bells are ringing The skies are dimming, their lights Maybe it's time to move on But you are still, too still and unabridged I rest my case and you win Much of my stoic quality won't win in this world Thank god I learned from you, a valuable piece of information I suppose And here, I still stand - Here, I still breathe your air
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Sep 11, 2011
Sep 11, 2011 at 7:43 PM UTC
Hailstone
The yellow house with the blue door Nobody goes there anymore The widow sits alone Lost in her own hailstone   The house thirst for its former days Laughter it's daily calls Trucks, blocks and dolls Scattered throughout the halls The sign is on the lawn The widow is long gone The yellow house with the blue door
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Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 10:04 AM UTC
Blue Door
the way sweat lingers on my eyelids makes me wonder if the sun loves us all too much. the world is a crowd and he is not a river—just a hailstone tailed by blue. twice a week my eyes watch for opportunities encrypted in that spiral pattern; i've only seen it's crystal shadow. my light shines; i love too hard; the sky begins to drip while I gaze; we melt; i wish i could be moon.
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Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 8:58 PM UTC
sun
An angel and a dog sat on a ridge. Sun set before them; Cloud stretched from earth to heavens; Wind came up behind them; And tousled their fur and feathers. Said angel to dog, "You lucky creature of earth. You never made a choice, Never had to doubt, Never bore the burden Of knowing what life's about." Replied dog to angel, "You lucky creature of heaven. You got to make a choice, Got to help a man, Got to soothe his pain As I but wish I can." Said once more the angel, "Of words of thanks I have been deprived; Yet you are scratched And given rawhide." Replied again the dog, "Those same hands of man, That pet and pacify, My brothers sadly learned They can beat and vilify." Shouted angel at dog, "Consider yourself lucky, That body is all they mar; You cannot even fathom Torturous souls lost to dark." Evenly dog to angel, "Am I not of creation? Am I not creation speaking? I suffer the blood of my grandfathers, And of my grandsons. I know naught else, But this I know completely." Snidely angel in retort, "I see suffering of thousands6— All the world to lament; Your grandfather and your son Are not even a percent." Somber the dog, "And you are not an angel, That is most evident. Of your choice you live now, As you died then. Please leave me now this view, And my destiny to man's kin." The angel dropped to the raging sea below, And flopped in the snow; In rage he threw the hailstone back, And before the tempest flew. The dog sat a while longer, And admired the peaceful scene; Till a call came from the woods, And he sped back with glee.
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Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 2:35 PM UTC
Dog and an Angel
An angel and a dog sat on a ridge. Sun set before them; Cloud stretched from earth to heavens; Wind came up behind them; And tousled their fur and feathers. Said angel to dog, "You lucky creature of earth. You never made a choice, Never had to doubt, Never bore the burden Of knowing what life's about." Replied dog to angel, "You lucky creature of heaven. You got to make a choice, Got to help a man, Got to soothe his pain As I but wish I can." Said once more the angel, "Of words of thanks I have been deprived; Yet you are scratched And given rawhide." Replied again the dog, "Those same hands of man, That pet and pacify, My brothers sadly learned They can beat and vilify." Shouted angel at dog, "Consider yourself lucky, That body is all they mar; You cannot even fathom Torturous souls lost to dark." Evenly dog to angel, "Am I not of creation? Am I not creation speaking? I suffer the blood of my grandfathers, And of my grandsons. I know naught else, But this I know completely." Snidely angel in retort, "I see suffering of thousands6— All the world to lament; Your grandfather and your son Are not even a percent." Somber the dog, "And you are not an angel, That is most evident. Of your choice you live now, As you died then. Please leave me now this view, And my destiny to man's kin." The angel dropped to the raging sea below, And flopped in the snow; In rage he threw the hailstone back, And before the tempest flew. The dog sat a while longer, And admired the peaceful scene; Till a call came from the woods, And he sped back with glee.
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59
Take the halos from our heads; Grabbed hold of the burden; Placed them in our eyes and saw; That pretty face in pain; & caught our small souls - so raw, I could even feel you again. We needed to set you free; From angels eyes aglow; So you are not alone; But our nature hides from view; This twilight dream has hailstone, & battered my heart so blue. If heaven ever took heed; from our grey creatures fey; It would know of fairer things; & not slay 'twisted' love; You claw at your doll's heart-strings, But fawn over the silk glove. You reach into yourselves, and find no magic dove. But there is a answer, to calm your weathered friends, Creep into the old stories, let them be known onto you, greet them like old siblings, and they will not smother you. They lost no war in clouds, and seek and look with no frowns, they carry themselves with pride, not banished or forced to hide, Listen to their song, Protect their corroding land, Look at them softly, and hold onto their immortal hand. If iron modernity is too much, In its boil, steam and hiss, Listen and know only this - For the faeries hold more wisdom, than the banker's unkind system.
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Jan 23, 2018
Jan 23, 2018 at 5:42 PM UTC
On the Beauty of Grey Angels
I walked away from absolutes Emotions bleeding out Determined never to return Preferring the sting of the hailstone Whipped by the wind of a cyclone The relentless hard reason I thought I served Began to liquify and poured through my hands The truth exposed it not as a liar But a murderer of souls Satiating for a long season Before withering and void of any hope I floated in a purgatorial ocean Uncaring, unfeeling, not even knowing I was waiting I thought I saw a chasm But it must have been a reflection in the sunlight A signal flare to let me know The enigma is still there Now I don't believe love has a feeling Maybe joy, maybe passion But never true love Love doesn't channel feelings Love channels absolutes Now I can't walk away again The next big storm might do me in Love will find me joy and passion In exchange for sacrifice and service I must only believe The absolutes are truth and wiser than I Everything else is just waiting to die
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Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 11:10 PM UTC
Considering the Absolutes
I see the light in the corner of my window before it morphs Into the face of Hades Death will guide my breathing into this open space and drown any meaning Of air and it’s grace I will see beyond all that explorers have yearned and the city heads tremble Forlorn For the street dusting folk have accepted this fate long before they were born And will sing at the face of Dawn When the sea reaches down to take my hand and sing me a cry So foreign I’ll remember that sleep is no different from waking and I’ll wait with no hurry No claim And we will soar through the fires and hailstone histories of man Spit oil and embers on brand For smoke becomes smoke And poison becomes poison And our bones a lovely crown for our children
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Jan 3, 2023
Jan 3, 2023 at 8:36 AM UTC
Till Time’s returned it’s due
Our thunderbolt Is the oppression Of the hailstone
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Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 5:03 PM UTC
Flower bud
Tortured beauty rides a black hailstone sky rattles on the window- Madly tormented manic swirling storm refused entry- Gone insane whipped up a dark beautiful frenzy.
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Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 7:19 AM UTC
a dark beautiful frenzy
It's as if the summer never came A cold winter storm And according to you I was to blame It's as though the world covered in snow An icebox heater And according to you I should know It's like a mountainous glacier settled Our hearts buried beneath And according to you I'm who melted It's as though your soul froze me out A cold, burning hailstone And according to me It's your turn to pout
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Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 12:44 PM UTC
Ice
Crawling Like catterpiller does Making noise in chaos Like some bugs No! No , i am not carrying a heavy log But Feels like hailstones on my head Leaned freely in the bed But ears still red Days passed not touched book Not even read Hope my knowledge till now Will Not fade Highlighted things are now shaded I don’t know without reason - I tend to misbehave As if hailstone hit me And I am converted to two pieces As if Lungs, intestine and heart are separated My mind knows nothing Finger lingers and mumbles tho As if I am dead Can breath ‘ In and out ‘ ‘In and out’ But Hailstones storm hit !
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Jun 6, 2020
Jun 6, 2020 at 7:57 AM UTC
Hailstones on my head
Your foreign voice and beautiful eyes, Made my heart beat and gave color to the skies. You'd hold my hand, tell me not to cry, But I was facing dark reality, so how could I? Then came the day where you had to go, There was rain, hailstone, wind and snow. Never will I forget the way you held my hand, And when I would fall you would help me stand. Now the same words play in my head, The words that made me question if our romance was dead. Those last few words before you said goodbye, "Just look up, and we'll be looking at the same sky."
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Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 4:20 AM UTC
Look up
These sugar cube folk , cowering at the thought of rain .. I've repartee for every hailstone a storm cloud might contain ...
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Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 7:29 PM UTC
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