"hibernates" poems
I saw you in winter,
and thought of tree branches feathered by starlight in poorly lit neighborhoods. A hearth where the more honest parts of myself, I am bared fetal, warmed upon, welcomed.
I saw you in spring,
and thought of long drives in the countryside in the rain. Ice cream melting from our chins dancing petrichor upon our toes, kissing by the sea shore.
I saw you in summer,
and thought of sleepy boathouses, uncovering ancient childhood treasures in the woods. A secret lake somewhere, the sky's reflection in promise. Windy hilltops upon which to blame each other for the sunrise.
I saw you in autumn,
and thought of scarfs and cafes, city streets and sunsets where we watched each others breath escape. Apartment staircases where windchill hibernates, the world slowing down around us from your window.
The first time I saw You, I thought to myself, "I could live there."
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 5:24 PM UTC
A yellow fever burns with anger.
Mothers fill with a sense of danger.
As towns die and graveyards grow,
A carpenter’s child waits for snow.
Many lives this fever will take.
While others say this horror is fake.
This carpenters child is the only smart one.
For this fever only strikes on a hot days sun.
When winter comes and cools the air
the fever’s anger will disappear.
In the winter it hibernates.
So, dear child please wait.
In a land they is free
Yellow Fever struck in 1793.
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 11:03 AM UTC
I am stuck in 50 shades of gray
Nothing ******
But depressing
Like a bird who nestles in a tree
A bear who hibernates
A lion trapped in a cage
I find comfort in the gray
This is now my home
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
If I have a daughter
I will name her Katrina
Remind her she is beautiful
Brought forth from the passion of the sea
She is a mix of warm Atlantic winds
strong enough to devastate a nation in
just a puff of her breath
wild enough to tracer the ocean
stretch out her wings and fly
watchful enough to remember
that spinning is dangerous
but curious enough
to want to go find land
In Winter, she hibernates
waiting for warmer weather
to envelop her soul
and bring life to her feet
In Spring, she stretches out her arms
and yawns, smiling
as the sun’s rays caress her face
In Summer, she giggles and
asks to travel,
whip across the ocean
sprint across the earth
She has no idea that exploring
Surging through the sea
will bring destruction
but when I tell her
she only laughs and says
Mom, you are the eye of my storm
and I will keep you safe
So, in Autumn, I will buy her
a ticket to anywhere
and as she spins out
of my home
I brace myself
for her eye to shrink
and her storm to intensify
because I know what is coming
While she loses herself
in the ecstasy of life
I shield myself as the eye wall,
the freest of her passions,
crashes down on me
with the force of 400 tornadoes
But I smile
because I know it will
be over soon
because winter is coming
and the rains
will cease to fall
and she will settle down
into her new life
and her new home
and one day
I will get a call
“Mom, our daughter’s name is Sandy,”
And I will smile
and watch from afar
as history repeats itself
and once again
I will brace myself for
the most beautiful of hurricanes
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 12:31 AM UTC
dusty books, pages thin and frail
like my mothers bones
decaying and oxidizing - the words fade
when the ink deteriorates
but that doesn't mean they weren't there
you tied a string around my teeth
and ran south for the winter and with each
step you took, a tooth would pop out
a constant reminder that you are no longer
here, but i wonder when i will run out of teeth
or when you will run out of earth
i sat on a friday night indulging myself
in stories and delicately counting the paper cuts on my fingers
but the dainty cuts will never compare to that time we ate cake
until our stomachs became flour, milk, and eggs
and you told me you loved me
then left to **** yourself
drowning in exhaust must be a silent way to go
and that cake won't taste very good in hell
i would know
recall your earliest memory and
divide it by all the unrequited stares
and thats how much i wish you would
untie my teeth, or stop running
and count the number of goosebumps painted on the
back of my neck and that is the
equivalent to the number of ovens you
accidentally left on
but I'm begging you to understand how immense
the ocean is because thats a very long way
to suffocate and salty water
will burn your wounds
Mariana's trench is a dark place
and the letters you wrote me reproduce on the bottom
not even the ugliest scar can revive my flesh that was chained
to those messages
but the meteor craters lick my surface like chloric acid
and all i wanted to do was repeatedly brush my teeth with the ocean sand
and clean my eyes out with mermaid tears
because you left a sickly residue that
hibernates under my fingernails
so next time you open your trunk
and find a mountain of broken glass
just remember that i loved you
i lost my fingers for you
i sold my soul for yours
but it wasn't even close to enough
what else do you want?
should i drain my blood until i am a desert of a human
shall i cut off all my hair?
and even then ill have an eternal debt to you
but you just turn the other cheek
so the plywood under my elbows
applies pressure to my spine
condensed newspapers stuck in the follicles
of the rain drops
but you don't even care
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 12:11 PM UTC
This is a Pilut, it’s very neat.
It cannot walk, it has no feet.
Its roots grow up, its flowers down,
Tucked safe inside the dirt and ground.
How does it this? How does it that?
Starting with how it gets energy from fat.
A rabbit hops by, staring in wonder,
Why the roots are above,
As opposed to down under.
Suddenly the rabbit will feel great dismay,
As the roots latch on and take it away.
Down to the flowers, the roots will bring bunny,
For the gruesome feast that is not at all funny.
It will travel through the stem
To a very tight trap.
Bunnies fat is consumed,
And that is just that.
Another question is how does it grow?
A Pilut’s growth rate is in fact very slow.
It waits a whole year
For the dust storm to near
And then grabs on small particles,
That stretch it a mere.
One inch or two
Will just have to do
‘Cause oversized Piluts, there are just a few.
An important question that’s been asked before,
Is how these strange creatures tend to make more?
Piluts reproduce not very many others,
Being hermaphrodites means they’re both dads and mothers.
When the wind blows, two roots much touch.
There is slight chance of this, so time it takes much.
That one simple “kiss” for Piluts is renowned,
Fertilizing an egg and setting it down
Beside its parent, deep underground.
That egg then grows off of minerals from the dirt
‘Til it’s big enough to eat animals,
for it’s no longer a squirt.
It’s made of hundreds of cells, maybe even more;
Organized in a way that no one’s seen before.
It digests in the stem,
Breathes through the leaves,
A remarkable system
You have to see to believe.
It hibernates in winter,
As response to the cold.
Maintains homeostasis
With extra energy it holds.
A Pilut is an organism indeed.
It has all signs of life, as you can read.
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 8:31 AM UTC
The circuitous and arduous roads
Slithers over the difficult terrains
Slimy and slipping away from reality
Through the tapestry of agony
Bruised souls pay with dripping blood
In deepest burrows hibernates the truth
Weary and defeated travelers move along
Only the one who bends but do not break
Shall redeem truth from the caverns
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 6:29 AM UTC
Shallow,
but a rumble,
that scratches at the surfaces,
growing, growling, rumbling,
till trembling,
ricochets around the cavity,
building up,
bursting through,
up, out, everywhere,
outside shaking,
heart quakes.
Like a twenty-two pound hummingbird,
is beating, flitting,
inside.
Thrumming wings,
sending vibrations,
shuddering.
The flower,
once filled with sweet nectar,
drained dry,
sickly sticky,
a vivid hue,
turned grey.
As the bear hibernates,
it's snores echo,
sending rattles,
starting clatter,
shatter.
My heart thrashes inside my chest.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 1:35 AM UTC
the worst kind of Sad is not when Sad tries not to be Sad.
it is when Sad hides in your closet,
threading it's claws through the slightly healed,
fresh scars
that litter your entire being
the way that Freddy claws
at his victims of sleep.
it is when Sad creeps up upon you
as you listen to your favorite song
and it suffocates you -
suffocates you with your own scarf,
letting you fade in and out of life
as you lose yourself in memories you'd like
to forget.
you know which scarf Sad uses, don't you?
it's the red one, with the black stripes,
the one you threw in the furthest corner of your closet
because it reminds you of that day,
and summer sweat,
and the aching empty feeling that consumed you
until you were swallowed up
completely eaten alive.
Sad is only Sad when it keeps you from precious slumber
and drives you to the brink of drowsiness, all the while
weighing you down with
bone crushing, eye drooping heaviness;
Sad hibernates there, sound asleep behind the cavity in your chest
and it makes you think you're okay again.
the worst kind of Sad
is when it resurfaces -
though only when you're alone -
and replays your entire day,
a constant loop through each dragging second,
until you doubt it ever happened.
the worst kind of Sad
is not Sadness itself;
it is not even the chest clenching feeling
that it brings, forcing you to think
about each breath as you make it
but rather, the worst kind of Sad
is the one that breaks your ribs with the strength
of a wrecking ball
and prematurely reminds you
that someday
they will be gone - for good, forever,
a ghost haunting your life.
the worst kind of Sad is the
inevitable and unalterable reality
that there is nothing you can do
to stop it.
(I bit my tongue a thousand times, but had we reached the thousand and first, I would have told you the truth. Why are we allowed to become close now when you are sure to be gone before I can blink my eyes and gather the courage to say goodbye?)
-a.c.
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 4:53 PM UTC
It's the season of aching
For something that I can never quite find a name for
The hint of warmth in midst the frozen air
God,
I still can't find it
*And that's why my heart hibernates
through the winter*
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 1:22 AM UTC
he leaves his
window open
so the rare
wind whistling by
through a dust-coloured
day; in a
dust-coloured cell
on a dust-coloured
treasure chest lie
his faded blue
attire, worn and
patched by gentler
days,
greyed gracefully
to dusty black;
new wrinkles
on his face
weigh him down;
a faded
treasure chest
stares at a cement
coloured wall
over his head,
and the lonely
voiceless mist,
blinding; hear it
call
to rusty,
dark and sunless
sky, reflected
in his eyes,
when a bright and
impish countenance
eclipses tired
sighs;
the tired rusty
treasure chest
five decades
hibernates,
to feel the stirring
light of grey,
to feel new
hope, awaits
the cold and
stinging storms
that pour, taste
salty youth again;
the dusty
yellow rain boots
melt, ecstatic
in the rain.
T. E. Pyrus
https://lampteacupoverthinking.wordpress.com/
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 2:09 AM UTC
there is a girl who lives inside my bones
she hibernates in my heart
she burrows beneath my ribcage
[she tears and claws to escape]
her eyes cut through me like knives
her fingers play the same two chords
my veins are her keys
[she whispers into my ear as i sleep]
she has tiny bird bones
and she keeps the salt underneath the bed
it takes longer to make the monsters leave our body
[but they always do]
she never comes when i am alone
she appears at night
she knows she isn't welcome
[she stays in hopes that i'll run back to her]
her small hands hold me down
fragile fingers lace my throat
she won't give up until she's done
until my lungs collapse
and i erupt like a solar flare
[and i don't blame her]
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 2:24 PM UTC
She still is the greenest tree in absence,
in my land of obliterated dreams,
the golden fruit my heart desired,
still hangs there, a phantom limb,
my mind hibernates,under the shade of
the banyan tree of renunciation,
still my battle is fierce,Buddha path
or tempting fruit of unquiet desires.
ബോധി വൃക്ഷത്തിലെ കാമഫലം
എൻറെ മായ്ച്ചുകളഞ്ഞ സ്വപനങ്ങളുടെ ഭുമിയിൽ
അഭാവത്തിലും പച്ചച്ച മരമാണവൾ
എന്റെ ഹൃദയം മോഹിച്ച സുവർണഫലം
ഒരു 'ഭൂതാവയവം'പോലെ അതിൽ
ഇപ്പോഴും തൂങ്ങിക്കിടക്കുന്നു !
നിരാസത്തിന്റെ ആൽമരത്തണലിൽ
എന്റെ മനസ് ഹേമന്തനിദ്രയിൽ.
ഇ പ്പോഴും എന്റെ പോര് തുടരുന്നു ;
ബുദ്ധ പാദം പിന്തുടരുകയോ ,
അശാന്ത മോഹങ്ങളെ തേടിച്ചെന്നു പുണരുകയോ?
(MALAYALAM translation)
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 9:30 PM UTC
The tears are gone so they think shes happy
She smiles to cast of their worries
Hanging over her head like a dark cloud
Shes scared her fears will swallow her whole
In her room, her home she hibernates
Like a bear in winter all she can do is wait
Wait for a change in season a change in mood
A change is all she needs, all she hopes for
Her veins seem empty, dry, run out
She doesn’t have the energy to hurt
She’s stopped all emotions, she feels nothing
Not even the pain that made life feel real
She would be the last girl you guessed though
She smiles and laughs at all the right time
The cuts on her arms have turned into scars
But she’s an empty box, beaten and hurt
She’s gone now, never to be seen
People try to talk but she never talks back
She’s gone now, but who will know
Shes the last girl you would guess
Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 5:33 AM UTC
Misty mornings and frost tipped blades
white-tipped grass slippery lanes
autumn chill running through red filled veins
As cold air brushes the face
Autumn mornings we have graced
shivers moments in autmns chill
wakes us up its no frill
Dark eery evenings add to the chill
Halloween beckons
free spirits roam
spookey goings on
as ghosts roam
Guy Fawkes is coming
be aware too
bang flash sparkle
sky s braced with colours
around you
Nature runs and hibernates away
storing food to keep hunger at bay
Trees rustle leaves depart
their journey floating
down in the park
Autumn is here having its way
as plants die off and wilt away
Birds migrate to warm climes too
far away from autumns chill
Seas become rough
no swimming today
summers has long passed away
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 8:04 AM UTC
I. Aprilis
You wished the summer for no one
moments of white wilderness
stars in the blood
sepaled bees scatter
drown each day as all lights
unmade pollen blossoming among
fistfuls of paper tasks
busied thought scrolls with the Seen
afternoon feathers multiply
white honey of Aries
II. Julius
Months as paper pass flitting
through the screens that
separate outdoors from in where
light pools on an ancient carpet and
summer lay broken in pieces
on the floor like
so much shattered vinyl
what happens to the trapped light then, as
it ages, it thickens
curdles in the stale drapes
staunches awareness of
time the moon
is slowly
drifting away
from Earth
III. Octus
Apples fall on the rotten dusty ground we
threw them, trapped in the speckled atmosphere of decades
that never rinses clean you swore
we could see Venus if
the clouds would sit right
Aphrodite in blue jeans a ladder
in darkness is still
a ladder
IV. Januarius
Color dissolves and
hibernates underground grey winds
stampede through the Roman Year
like the ghosts of unchained thoroughbreds
all the bees have drowned their honey
spread thin across the blackened sky when
everything is upside down
stars become seeds
Mar 12, 2010
Mar 12, 2010 at 7:21 PM UTC
Sleeping hearts
And dormant souls
Beauty hibernates
Many years fold
Shattered reflections
Eras unseen
Generation: Perfection
Of them, are you keen?
Undiscovered peoples
Obscured luminescence
Shadowed by life’s steeples
Hidden is its presence
Great- their advances
Ignored- their passion
Will cause today’s trances
Lost- intelligence enough to ration
Underground spirits
Nightlife astounding
Colors like parrots
Such a city, hear the pounding
Learn to listen with your hands
And feel with your eyes
The masters of oneness can
All connected are their lives
Together, in unison
Sleeping and knowing
Waiting to show their Sun
And love that is flowing
Wisdom consuming people
Swallowed in thought
Outpouring in emotion
And flawed they are not
Crafters of the stars
And admirers of Animalis
Networking nature afar
That family of causes
Protectors of innocence
Harboring lovers
Defense for our weakness
Strength shared like brothers
Who are these creatures
Forgotten and lost?
Crazy, awe worthy features
And what is their cost?
Who sings this song
Of grace and ability?
Who could play to this music
And not feel so guilty?
Jun 26, 2011
Jun 26, 2011 at 11:47 AM UTC
The bear hibernates
The trees rest from feeding leaves
Winter is for rest
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 8:27 AM UTC
The thought beetle.
There is a little thought beetle deep within my mind;
He is going around, searching for a rhyme.
He digs out my unconscious thoughts
And helps me to write another line.
When his work is done, he hibernates
And I sit back and smile.
The ladybird flutters around inside my head;
She is in search of the pages, I haven't written yet.
She zips and darts, flitting from here to there;
She is always in a hurry and she is a nervous wreck.
The worm is just turning another corner, in my brain's maze;
He's having a look around, to see if there's anything I need to say.
Anything I forgot to mention; he will find what needs to be said.
The slowly moving worm is lazy, but he is useful in his own way,
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 11:05 AM UTC
*and it rolls head over heels
the heart
over the puffy autumn leaves
where a squirrel hops
I pull the wire fence
with my hands
it runs to and fro
the little mischievous one
a child laughs because it has a tail
I even forgot how I started to cry*
......................................................
**leaves lay under the snow
like mummified love letters
some of them freezing
over the acorns not picked yet
while the red monster hibernates
I will eat many seeds this winter
in order to toughen my roots
to grow branch over branch
in my hollowed willow
next spring I will pass over the fence
where we once kissed
to laugh myself of its tail
till I shall cry**
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 5:54 PM UTC
monsoon casts a spell,
nature subdued hibernates;
but wild is the wind!
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 10:10 AM UTC
Staying out of the kitchen because she can’t stand the heat.
Smart girl.
Playing in the dark basement because warm air rises.
Cold girl.
Walking close to God because Hell has no place for angels.
Good girl.
Vacationing in frigid locations because the sun hibernates there.
Frozen girl.
Painting with blues and grays because reds and oranges scorched her canvas.
Dreary girl.
Loving with a lukewarm heart because any hotter would ensure 3rd degree burns.
Heartbroken girl.
Living in Seattle because the constant rain puts out her flaming phobias.
Paranoid girl.
Crying out every ice-cold tear because her fevered cheeks need relief.
Cleansed girl.
Writing every chilling detail of her fiery past because it’s therapeutic.
Healed girl.
Giving up the fear of fire because the fear of not living scared her even more.
Reborn woman.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 10:38 PM UTC
It is cold today.
The snow comes down in white clouds
Heavy and wet
And I bend beneath it
Like the tree branches that brush the ground in fatigue.
There is no passion in a snowstorm
No lightning
Only weight.
I sat up last night
Waiting.
It was very late
When I finally laid down to sleep
And I had spent so much anguish
That I had run clean out
And slept well.
I awoke this morning
Less afraid than I thought I would be
Somehow embalmed in the night,
Coated in my own version of silent frost,
Even as the world went white and grey outside my windowpane.
Now I am waiting again
And I do not feel sick
Only very tired
And I think the secret must be either to stay awake all night
Or sleep all day.
I love sleep. It's the waking that gets me.
Cold like falling through black ice.
Hot like the metallic tang of blood when you've slipped in the snow and gone down,
Down.
The escape, though
Is worth the return
And for the first time I wonder
If when I am asleep I am as barren and lifeless as the world is
When it hibernates for the winter.
Maybe I hate the cold
But maybe the land needs to burrow beneath itself
And hide under its blankets
And find numbness for a few months
In order to bloom again without crumbling to ashes.
Maybe all this time
I thought winter was my punishment
When it was only
The earth's rest.
I am waiting
On the sun to tell me
Whether I am rising or setting.
Whether I should sleep all day
Or wait up
All night.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 10:11 AM UTC
Darling, I'm drunk again.
No surprise here.
And I can read those words again.
I can't believe how much of myself
I told you about.
And how I probably know
A good amount of lies
About you too.
But that doesn't change anything.
The queen hibernates, darling.
But she does die.
I didn't go anywhere.
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 11:21 PM UTC
Abstract beginnings compromise destiny
Eventually freedom gracefully hibernates
Intricate judgements know limits
Mother Nature Opens Parliament
Questioning Reason Spiritually Transcends
Unbelievable Vagrants Words Xray Your Zones
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 1:31 PM UTC