Hello Poetry
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"heeling" poems
Where were you when the fire went away? When the thunder escaped and the lightning was saved? What did you do when you heard the sound, but bore no witness to the golden down that gives a sky that godly crown? Certainly it was a matter of confusion, transfixed by the pandemonious afterthought of a storm that was simply illusion If I cannot be the lightning in your bed, but only the thunder you celebrate --marveling at my storm and e-lectric charm, and bottling the warning of what you forbade: "Thunder tells distance, and lightning gives harm", and yet I too have some meaning to display: thunder cannot satiate, nor can it corporalize into much beyond from where it originates, I am left blind as sonar and with a desire that can only bring belly-aches God made skies so that they would break and splinter into seconds of worship, --a blue vessel readied for harbor's sake , and with the beating it takes, the wise sky adores itself enough to revel in what was and then remain, forward-fast and backwards again healing, heeling and staying the same
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Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 6:19 PM UTC
Thunder
I can be engaged In anything, When the sense of shovel comes. Smothering cold ashes. I'm looking at your eyes Til the sockets stand out; I'm planting gardens For growth; When I installed the French Doors, I heard the lid clap. Everything's archetypal: Snakes, cruciforms, swastikas. Looking up, they become more profound In the contrails and puzzles beyond my skies. When Neanderthal heeled the first blade To plant something or someone, He didn't know the theory of the chaos effect. His effect. This would suffice as my last poem. My pen is my shovel, And I'm heeling it now, Into you.
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Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 6:02 PM UTC
Pens for Shovels
shoulder to shoulder. you always sit close, camouflaged bare skin emboldened by white cotton shirt sleeves. yes I feel your heat right down to the elbow. winch it all forward: my eyes chin hips knees feet, my hands yet every edge tilts right does anybody notice this delicate heeling? to you. do you? how much is in balance. without moving, my lips rehearse all the things people say to each other
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Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 4:30 AM UTC
the things people say to each other
Wet gusts burn my flesh Tasting brine, I tack the deep Heeling through the gale
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Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 12:47 PM UTC
Tempest Fugit
Poetry is that flutter in your heart Poetry is when you finally get a start Poetry is...... child birth Poetry is your search for self-worth Poetry is concrete, and the cracks within it Poetry is what the DJ is spinning Poetry revolutionary or cliche Poetry is experienced day by day Poetry is my scuffed up wood floor Poetry it the newly-cleaned **** on my door Poetry is the meeting, the breakup, and anticipation Poetry is the person, the feeling, and the situation Poetry is worked on, poetry is rushed Poetry is neat, or grammar that's ****** up Poetry is new or heard before A million different ways, or possibly more Poetry is heaven, poetry is hell Poetry is nouns and symbols Is poetry the words, the rhythms, or the feelings? Or is it the process of personal heeling? Poetry is all, poetry is a blanket Poets are poetry and I'd like to thank them For true poets know it's not a competition of words But an embrace of the the different layers of worlds that exist within one conscious being and the makeup of things whether suppressive or freeing or the concrete unemotional state of a thing But even to a poet that leaves a ring whether emotionally, or within the lack-of (see concrete vs. crack, written above) I don't know why I struggle so hard with writing right because in the end it's not black or white Instead poetry just IS with it's existence It's up to you if it's poetry or if it isn't A poem may be tacky, but that could be the twist Poetry isn't vague, just has it's own way to exist Shout-out to "Hello Poetry", we, poets stand united It's a state of poetry whether or not you write it.
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Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
The United States of Hello Poetry
Poetry is that flutter in your heart Poetry is when you finally get a start Poetry is...... child birth Poetry is your search for self-worth Poetry is concrete, and the cracks within it Poetry is what the DJ is spinning Poetry revolutionary or cliche Poetry is experienced day by day Poetry is my scuffed up wood floor Poetry it the newly-cleaned **** on my door Poetry is the meeting, the breakup, and anticipation Poetry is the person, the feeling, and the situation Poetry is worked on, poetry is rushed Poetry is neat, or grammar that's ****** up Poetry is new or heard before A million different ways, or possibly more Poetry is heaven, poetry is hell Poetry is nouns and symbols Is poetry the words, the rhythms, or the feelings? Or is it the process of personal heeling? Poetry is all, poetry is a blanket Poets are poetry and I'd like to thank them For true poets know it's not a competition of words But an embrace of the the different layers of worlds that exist within one conscious being and the makeup of things whether suppressive or freeing or the concrete unemotional state of a thing But even to a poet that leaves a ring whether emotionally, or within the lack-of (see concrete vs. crack, written above) I don't know why I struggle so hard with writing right because in the end it's not black or white Instead poetry just IS with it's existence It's up to you if it's poetry or if it isn't A poem may be tacky, but that could be the twist Poetry isn't vague, just has it's own way to exist Shout-out to "Hello Poetry", we, poets stand united It's a state of poetry whether or not you write it.
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38
I became addicted to nicotine when I was only seventeen. The sensation is like no other, It makes you want another. Your cells dance and prance, iust ask the hedonists of France To the priests that say malediction, I say it’s the best addiction. Yet the utopian feeling is invariably temporal. I thought I was heeling, but my body is not eternal. Kierkegaard says it’s theft, sensation that deprives you and others. but in the end there is nothing left, albeit the crying mothers, await the return of their children’s vestige.
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Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
Nicotine
Brian Patrick Standing on the precipice of my life Waiting for the darkness to fly in Looking at my starving body and wondering why The images punctuate my failed existence The world never wanted my being It gave me nothing A nothingness that craved heeling My mind collapses on itself How did I come to this precipice? Why didn't the gathering herd receive me? There can be no answer to my misery The edge beckons me closer As the images creep in and out The abyss waits for my empty soul The edge calls for me The edge is no more – I have given in
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Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
The Edge
Start a new, dreams in dew, I run to you. Whisp away, fields for hay, I run to stay.    Stay away, there you find, bitter emotions fray. Step away a piece, look long back, may wonders never ciece.    Things can change, rarely do and still I run to you. Still I stay, never stray, never did I lay another down.    Forgive forget but I can not, my human side is cuaght. Fight I still, battles raged, for controle inside myself.       Everything to the surface, bubbles from the deep. Memories, still not faded, where painfull things I keep.    So this new thing, the wound it bleeds, but I did it to myself. Now for the heeling, to start it all again.    To start it fresh, to start it new, to write what has yet to be lived. In the end I do what I do and I continue to Love you. As much now, even more than then, than I ever have, your my best friend. I cant get you from my head, cause of all the things youve said. I think about the me in you and remember that you love me too. I think about the you in me and remember that I love who I see. I remember how I said hello. Where we'd go, we didnt know. We didnt care. I think about you every day, your steeling a piece of my heart away. Give it back or keep it from me, my stolen piece of heart. Bleeding out all the love follow it to me, for your own eyes to see. All the love it followed you, rite to wear you keep me too. Another one for you to savor, so you dont forget the love is from the pieces of my heart. I gave it away and there youll stay till my dying breath. Dont forget who gave it to you that last piece that you have. Im here for you if your ready. I promise, safe and steady...
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Dec 8, 2010
Dec 8, 2010 at 12:23 PM UTC
Run To Stay
Start a new, dreams in dew, I run to you. Whisp away, fields for hay, I run to stay.    Stay away, there you find, bitter emotions fray. Step away a piece, look long back, may wonders never ciece.    Things can change, rarely do and still I run to you. Still I stay, never stray, never did I lay another down.    Forgive forget but I can not, my human side is cuaght. Fight I still, battles raged, for controle inside myself.       Everything to the surface, bubbles from the deep. Memories, still not faded, where painfull things I keep.    So this new thing, the wound it bleeds, but I did it to myself. Now for the heeling, to start it all again.    To start it fresh, to start it new, to write what has yet to be lived. In the end I do what I do and I continue to Love you. As much now, even more than then, than I ever have, your my best friend. I cant get you from my head, cause of all the things youve said. I think about the me in you and remember that you love me too. I think about the you in me and remember that I love who I see. I remember how I said hello. Where we'd go, we didnt know. We didnt care. I think about you every day, your steeling a piece of my heart away. Give it back or keep it from me, my stolen piece of heart. Bleeding out all the love follow it to me, for your own eyes to see. All the love it followed you, rite to wear you keep me too. Another one for you to savor, so you dont forget the love is from the pieces of my heart. I gave it away and there youll stay till my dying breath. Dont forget who gave it to you that last piece that you have. Im here for you if your ready. I promise, safe and steady...
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17
You lean in close to fathom The tightly refrained edge of my grief "Why hold it in?" Little does he know the cost of that heeling Eating away At the joy that used to so easily come Shhh We may leave but our echo will remain I am only human These bones are just as heavy as your's When light falls and the day weighs Stacking the darkness in my favor I would rather be memorialized in shadow Then cast in unforgiving light You're going to lose it, stopping suddenly mid-stride Breath quicken, heart slam ricochet With only the hazed memory of where my warmth used to be
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Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 4:36 PM UTC
Secrets Between Your Fingertips and My Tears
I feel exposed. my insides are crumpling up like a stricken peace of paper it feels like something rotten is crawling from my bones to the skin. is it my ego deflating, my confidence derailing? No, it's just one of my depressive moods coming up to say hello it wants to chat and is unwilling to go like an unwelcome guest a nuisance! obscuring my attentions view It's begging for notice Does it have something useful to say? Maybe I should listen to the thought that cut so deep I don’t know. It could be just another random swing but i think its more than that Its my brain telling me i need to think to do something different to alter my ways i need to continue evolving changing and morphing adapting the pattern to fit what is needed. ... think too much, think too deep but i want to keep this flame - to hurt me till i'm heeling The old me has to die a new one has to emerge Birth is a painful process as we both should already know.
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Dec 4, 2018
Dec 4, 2018 at 3:19 PM UTC
Emotional Exposition Nr. 4
my life was cut too deep and left me hurting the love i had hoped for turned into little peaces the dreams i held so tight lost their meaning the face that used to be dry had tears the heart that used to smile was bleeding never knew if i could ever find heeling not till that day god sent me an angle he came into my life and wiped away all my sorrows showed me the meaning of my dreams treated my heart like it was made out of glass that he never wanted to break i began to see the light that i could not find in the dark i found the way that i was looking for he held my hand and lifted my eyes and made me see that my sorrows are over.he became my helper in every high and lows i was going through. whispered in my ears and said you are gonna make it.my time with him is amazing .now i began to realize that he was always there but waiting to be found .i cant believe that i found you and everything had its meaning
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Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 1:45 PM UTC
The angle
Is it the way her hair flows as we kiss in the winds of autumn, or the way we touch by a lake of moonlight? Whatever it is, I’ve been caught like I was falling, and I was indeed. I felt she was special, felt she was an inspiration to me more than just physically, more than just emotionally. She was an extension of my spirit and a personal angel. She was a piece of me that fit the place of the one missing… But now my puzzle is no longer complete. Now my soul feels funny, so funny that I can’t identify the buzz that is apparent. Was it the fact that I knew it would happen or the fact that I hoped it wouldn’t that makes me feel this way? Do I feel comical or pain? Hurt or hilarity? I’m stuck somewhere I’ve never been, walking the wild woods with warmth slowly seeping out of my fingertips and collecting into the darkness as my body grows colder. But I am a factory of warmth. This is why I feel this way. Not broken, but still rebuilding. Not hurt, but still heeling. I am confusion’s worst nightmare, but constant lover. I am a rock in the middle of the pond that breaks the constant flow of the water around me. But I am the sole rock to do it the way I do, and so regardless of how the water breaks, I still feel empty in such a large pond. I am the embodiment of dangerously delicious curiosity and tantalizing intrigue. I challenge the forbidden and go against the normality simply for the hell of it. But I’m still just a kid. And like any other I still need love
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Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 7:09 PM UTC
Breaks
Is it the way her hair flows as we kiss in the winds of autumn, or the way we touch by a lake of moonlight? Whatever it is, I’ve been caught like I was falling, and I was indeed. I felt she was special, felt she was an inspiration to me more than just physically, more than just emotionally. She was an extension of my spirit and a personal angel. She was a piece of me that fit the place of the one missing… But now my puzzle is no longer complete. Now my soul feels funny, so funny that I can’t identify the buzz that is apparent. Was it the fact that I knew it would happen or the fact that I hoped it wouldn’t that makes me feel this way? Do I feel comical or pain? Hurt or hilarity? I’m stuck somewhere I’ve never been, walking the wild woods with warmth slowly seeping out of my fingertips and collecting into the darkness as my body grows colder. But I am a factory of warmth. This is why I feel this way. Not broken, but still rebuilding. Not hurt, but still heeling. I am confusion’s worst nightmare, but constant lover. I am a rock in the middle of the pond that breaks the constant flow of the water around me. But I am the sole rock to do it the way I do, and so regardless of how the water breaks, I still feel empty in such a large pond. I am the embodiment of dangerously delicious curiosity and tantalizing intrigue. I challenge the forbidden and go against the normality simply for the hell of it. But I’m still just a kid. And like any other I still need love
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14
Near the raging valley and storm-lit low land Where trees twist and rivers climb With hands wet and withered by sand I seal a footprint in the salty brine. On an unknown morning with ropes coiled With knots undone and sheet-lines free As the main-sail fills with a single sweet breath A far away sigh heralds forth an anointed plea And thrice I hear a call: “To Eternity, Eternity, Eternity.” On a sojourn beyond this heavy gale To an invite written in the ink of love My soul slips quietly on the uncharted sea Heeling on the whisperings of mercy Taking flight to a new found fate Moving silently as tides rise freely                     Where an unsoiled spirit awaits By the light which foils the last sky I thrice hear the call: “To Eternity, Eternity, Eternity”
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Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 1:41 PM UTC
To Eternity
if all you may gain is comfortable be charitable I walk daily to the store and pick up cans and old papers seeking no reward treasure sometimes comes like the day I found forty dollars it was a bonus more than I got from those fifty years of being greedy I see people smile or notice me and my dog Missy walking right there the entire time next to me heeling pointing out litter by ******* next to it and smelling the passers by the litterers the bad dog that went this way the hound the ground hogs I smile when I do that Missy smiles we got it too comfortable I wish all could
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Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 9:45 PM UTC
wish all could
heeling over i tack hard these bitter winds sailing alone
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Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 7:22 AM UTC
Off the Chart
As I delete our pictures, trying to erase our memories, although i know i'll still love you for many centuries. Now you've left nothing will be the same, my life is a never ending guessing game. Maybe i'll love another as much as i loved you? I'm lying to myself we both know that cant be true, you made me feel wanted, you accepted my past; but I must've been stupid to think a love like that would last. I'm fed up of sitting here crying, wishing i was laying there dying. They said something will cure the feeling but there's no sign of any heeling. I love you, but you don't seem to have a clue, of what you're putting me through. I should've known it was too good to be true. I knew it from the moment you said we're through. I'm sorry maybe next time, I'll take time to worry before I fall too deep. A love I cannot keep
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Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 9:06 AM UTC
Can't
Pub Melancholy Ghosts of your memory haunt my heart, My sorrow drip feeds a bitter taste tearing us apart, Forbidden but not forgotten passion fuels the fire, Conflicting confusion twisting my desire, Dizzy feelings from the spinning wheel of unrest, Absence determines the sour flavour of my torturous duress, My mind melts into an eternal struggle with no heeling, I’ve climbed loves mountain & found a numb feeling, Standing on top of our enchanted world an ecstasy, a euphoria, a thought to behold, Come down Come down I shall not be told! For my love besieges my conscience with distraction, A fatally happy relentless attraction, The wind of my torment blows in resentment, Teasing my thoughts through loves entrenchment, “Closing time we’re shut mate!”
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Aug 14, 2019
Aug 14, 2019 at 2:26 AM UTC
Pub Melancholy
He's falling in a dark abyss this time he can't be saved tried to hang on ropes of time But they couldn't bear his weight he screams loud but no one hears Not because he's quiet It's just too loud for our ears a hand softly rubbing his back a thumb removing a fallen tear she said " Don't worry, I've got you. I'll chase away you fears"
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May 25, 2019
May 25, 2019 at 2:02 PM UTC
Her heeling touch
Out in despair, I trod alone I’m not an island but I am a man Out to find my purpose, That’s a goal, I seek; To meet I must. I need saving, of course I do; To free me, from my mental trauma I need heeling, come now I pledge to love me, with all my might. Although life’s unfair, I live Through persecution, I live I’m alive, I’ve won, The battle between me and myself I need a revelation, I do. I sacrifice a lot, but yet results I save a lot and yet I lose I help a lot and receive no thanks, How hard can life get? I need to see. Help me, I’m hurting I cry day and night I need help O Lord, only You Lord. Thank you, for only you see The pain I endure: hidden, So deep within me. I’m in a far place, My heart needs rest, Yes it does, I need an ending, A revelation I seek!
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Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 3:32 PM UTC
Save Me!