"heartspace" poems - Hello Poetry

once upon a time there was a circle and it drummed and it strummed and the lump in my throat the size of a tyrant's fist dissolved into a pure white light feeling and i was a person a part of something not apart not asunder a heartspace coming coming a star starring afar in the distance guiding my lost feet toward an oasis that actually is a new start an art of being dreaming awake made for you a land of yay to hold in the palm of your hand and a vibrating tone resonates in that numb sternum a tone that lay one shade away from the ten thousand and ten whites of the first light ever lit Her womb receiving you again

0

Oct 7, 2015

Oct 7, 2015 at 6:31 PM UTC

mike-dm

a land of yay

once upon a time there was a circle and it drummed and it strummed and the lump in my throat the size of a tyrant's fist dissolved into a pure white light feeling and i was a person a part of something not apart not asunder a heartspace coming coming a star starring afar in the distance guiding my lost feet toward an oasis that actually is a new start an art of being dreaming awake made for you a land of yay to hold in the palm of your hand and a vibrating tone resonates in that numb sternum a tone that lay one shade away from the ten thousand and ten whites of the first light ever lit Her womb receiving you again

43

hues of (you) (leave) my heartspace sublime you continue to paint (me) in (a)ll of my rhymes so my sun keeps it’s (shine) so my Light (i) can find all our moments (eternally) (grow) toward the sky oh our colors (the)y bloom and my heart becomes (new) (you) will always be my true illusion (to) time

0

Dec 5, 2017

Dec 5, 2017 at 2:46 PM UTC

ohellobeautiful

eternal illusions

hues of (you) (leave) my heartspace sublime you continue to paint (me) in (a)ll of my rhymes so my sun keeps it’s (shine) so my Light (i) can find all our moments (eternally) (grow) toward the sky oh our colors (the)y bloom and my heart becomes (new) (you) will always be my true illusion (to) time

12

I've pruned the edges of my garden, but when all still wilts, withers, and dies I plant myself anew. I pat clods of dirt between the crevices of my ribcage and nestle a seedling in the cavity of my heartspace. Perhaps something lovely will grow there someday.

0

Mar 20, 2015

Mar 20, 2015 at 5:47 PM UTC

amandamiller

Garden

I've pruned the edges of my garden, but when all still wilts, withers, and dies I plant myself anew. I pat clods of dirt between the crevices of my ribcage and nestle a seedling in the cavity of my heartspace. Perhaps something lovely will grow there someday.

9

late night street scholars smoke green on green trains sing d-flow & p-funk hymns with third-eye campfire heartspace effervescent enlightenment of the moon. All united only by the time in the most draconian sense at "2:30am eastern standard time" our classroom be on the 6th train heading uptown. I saw this happening... People keep calling me jesus-- makes me nervous cause i'm starting to believe it. We are all us.

0

Mar 12, 2014

Mar 12, 2014 at 8:14 AM UTC

brycical

Untitled

late night street scholars smoke green on green trains sing d-flow & p-funk hymns with third-eye campfire heartspace effervescent enlightenment of the moon. All united only by the time in the most draconian sense at "2:30am eastern standard time" our classroom be on the 6th train heading uptown. I saw this happening... People keep calling me jesus-- makes me nervous cause i'm starting to believe it. We are all us.

18

I made space for you. Here just under my collar bone and between the gloopy lobes of lung. I cracked open the bony sternum door, reached in and mucked out the place that I’ve spent my life filling with hopes and dreams. When I pulled them out, my hands came away covered in the stinking rot of goals unfulfilled; my wrists burned as the decaying poison of unmet expectation ate away the flesh there. I scrubbed the walls of my new empty spot with the essence of despair and an infusion of apathy tinged with a hint of resentment. Chemicals so corrosive that the nerve endings burned off leaving a sterile, unfeeling space. I did all that for you. You died while I was cleaning. You had gone out, frustrated again about how I never made time for us to spend with just each other. You slammed the door and even as my hair blew back from my face with the force of your anger, I resolved to make a change. I had only just finished disposing of my toxic waste when a soft-sorry knock replaced your slam on the door. At first I saw the gun on his hip, right next to the flashlight and under the shade of a doughnut-filled muffin top. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Your heart - it’s dead.’ and then went on to explain something about a bus and a busy city street. I couldn’t be sure exactly what he said. My mind was distracted by the glare of the bright, burning sunset jumping off the badge on his chest stabbing me in the eye and the feeling of numb negative space hanging off the front of my spine.

0

Sep 14, 2014

Sep 14, 2014 at 10:30 PM UTC

tgrooms

Heartspace

I made space for you. Here just under my collar bone and between the gloopy lobes of lung. I cracked open the bony sternum door, reached in and mucked out the place that I’ve spent my life filling with hopes and dreams. When I pulled them out, my hands came away covered in the stinking rot of goals unfulfilled; my wrists burned as the decaying poison of unmet expectation ate away the flesh there. I scrubbed the walls of my new empty spot with the essence of despair and an infusion of apathy tinged with a hint of resentment. Chemicals so corrosive that the nerve endings burned off leaving a sterile, unfeeling space. I did all that for you. You died while I was cleaning. You had gone out, frustrated again about how I never made time for us to spend with just each other. You slammed the door and even as my hair blew back from my face with the force of your anger, I resolved to make a change. I had only just finished disposing of my toxic waste when a soft-sorry knock replaced your slam on the door. At first I saw the gun on his hip, right next to the flashlight and under the shade of a doughnut-filled muffin top. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Your heart - it’s dead.’ and then went on to explain something about a bus and a busy city street. I couldn’t be sure exactly what he said. My mind was distracted by the glare of the bright, burning sunset jumping off the badge on his chest stabbing me in the eye and the feeling of numb negative space hanging off the front of my spine.

37

always sorry, I make amends, to break the slender branches over and over, anyway; fall down and sigh, run away and I'm so **** scared that everyone will see me for the frightened child I never grow out of. the broken wings I'd made those aching flight plans for bled out: open plain smoke for seventeen nights, days, and the boundary crossings between them. so, that vast sky, built of shards and shards and shards, oppresses, on high, still, above, ruminating or dwelling, upon cold response; like I, the small thing, on a small rock, too afraid of heartspace or, second takes or, just, I'm sorry, for the ******* I am.

0

Feb 24, 2013

Feb 24, 2013 at 12:42 AM UTC

tom-mccone

ἀπολογία

always sorry, I make amends, to break the slender branches over and over, anyway; fall down and sigh, run away and I'm so **** scared that everyone will see me for the frightened child I never grow out of. the broken wings I'd made those aching flight plans for bled out: open plain smoke for seventeen nights, days, and the boundary crossings between them. so, that vast sky, built of shards and shards and shards, oppresses, on high, still, above, ruminating or dwelling, upon cold response; like I, the small thing, on a small rock, too afraid of heartspace or, second takes or, just, I'm sorry, for the ******* I am.

28

I got tired of the beating, so I took it out. that messy red lump of flesh, dripping onto the laminate floor. thud-thud-thudding even removed wet meaty smell and sticking to my fingers. a cavern in my chest echoing through my ribs miles deep and deep and deep I'll burn this mortal heart and cure myself of longing.

0

Oct 31, 2018

Oct 31, 2018 at 2:19 AM UTC

kay-p

heartspace

I got tired of the beating, so I took it out. that messy red lump of flesh, dripping onto the laminate floor. thud-thud-thudding even removed wet meaty smell and sticking to my fingers. a cavern in my chest echoing through my ribs miles deep and deep and deep I'll burn this mortal heart and cure myself of longing.

8