"harrying" poems - Hello Poetry

I don't know why I write poetry all I know is that writing poetry makes me rich enjoying -- not possessing the ever-expanding universe without fear of inflation in the sky -- white clouds singing larks whispering wind the tender moon and twinkling stars on the ground-- mountains hills plains gullies lush green red brown yellow oceans streams lakes ponds splashing gurgling burbling the blooming flowers the vacillating leaves children's innocent laughter cats dogs chickens ducks birds jumping chasing croaking singing all are parts of my life's fortune of course, there too are ferocious dark clouds harrying eagles howling storms withering flowers roaring guns and piercing screams the shadows that lend dimension to poetry and life In fact, I don't write poetry poetry writes me

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Jun 17, 2017

Jun 17, 2017 at 3:51 PM UTC

william-marr

WHY I WRITE POETRY

I don't know why I write poetry all I know is that writing poetry makes me rich enjoying -- not possessing the ever-expanding universe without fear of inflation in the sky -- white clouds singing larks whispering wind the tender moon and twinkling stars on the ground-- mountains hills plains gullies lush green red brown yellow oceans streams lakes ponds splashing gurgling burbling the blooming flowers the vacillating leaves children's innocent laughter cats dogs chickens ducks birds jumping chasing croaking singing all are parts of my life's fortune of course, there too are ferocious dark clouds harrying eagles howling storms withering flowers roaring guns and piercing screams the shadows that lend dimension to poetry and life In fact, I don't write poetry poetry writes me

32

Oh wind ill tempered and contrary thing you drag the peaceful sea by the scruff of its watery neck harrying the sleeping waves to rise and fall crashing at your beck and call yet when we want to sail or dry our clothes you don't appear at all

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May 12, 2023

May 12, 2023 at 3:36 AM UTC

unpolished-ink

Contrary Thing

Oh wind ill tempered and contrary thing you drag the peaceful sea by the scruff of its watery neck harrying the sleeping waves to rise and fall crashing at your beck and call yet when we want to sail or dry our clothes you don't appear at all

10

…the blue hour’s senate hitched as phosphorous, palmed at the pitch of a street lamp’s arm, harassing with a phenomena of quizzings: an abuse set by abnegative hues, “there is no resume,” I think, “save the melancholic parallax of stars… the harrying proximity of inevitable Harms”. And at once a smile becomes equinox.

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Jul 25, 2018

Jul 25, 2018 at 6:31 PM UTC

d-w-stojek

avant et après Albermarle

…the blue hour’s senate hitched as phosphorous, palmed at the pitch of a street lamp’s arm, harassing with a phenomena of quizzings: an abuse set by abnegative hues, “there is no resume,” I think, “save the melancholic parallax of stars… the harrying proximity of inevitable Harms”. And at once a smile becomes equinox.

6

The Furies break the rain's fall, for a drink to spring. opening wide with predatory accuracy. hungering more than hungering things. to blush their pallid cheeks, with a hint of life. this go round, of this elemental ploy--gathered thus. as above ground, blades of grass may be bent, certain with intent. the vengeance of direction, nonplussed by deed done. a harrying net thrown upon worms parading as flowers. the close quarters of winter's spring breeds both ways. the napes of flowers bristle.

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May 10, 2018

May 10, 2018 at 1:41 PM UTC

Onoma

The Furies

The Furies break the rain's fall, for a drink to spring. opening wide with predatory accuracy. hungering more than hungering things. to blush their pallid cheeks, with a hint of life. this go round, of this elemental ploy--gathered thus. as above ground, blades of grass may be bent, certain with intent. the vengeance of direction, nonplussed by deed done. a harrying net thrown upon worms parading as flowers. the close quarters of winter's spring breeds both ways. the napes of flowers bristle.

23