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"hiemal" poems
Pine needles in my head Snowbird starts to fly A want of apricity Enters my blood stream Like lukewarm sea water Enters hiemal streams I'm sprawled facedown An angel or so Below the snow The taste of frost Technically wintergreen From your breathy kiss Hinting at a return To rays of affection And the crush of limbs
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Feb 5, 2021
Feb 5, 2021 at 9:10 AM UTC
When We Were Subnivean
Pearls bleed from the pores of my skin sparks dance where your fingers touch the ocean neath my lashes hides in ecstasy the sun melts in the heat of our familiarity the mist of my yearning deepens into a ravaging wave your burning desire surmounts the effect of haoma a delineation of this moment weakens my knees I clasp the air and feel the hiemal wind chime my mind bears a simulacrum of your perfection exulting in the reminiscence of a beau ideal when you whisper you will be back soon my eyes close to annul our distance too defined turning my heart jocund, my senses sublime.
0
Oct 12, 2012
Oct 12, 2012 at 12:59 PM UTC
Feeling too fine
my dear fellow human, you have been wintergreen against my heart. a sharp brilliance of blinding light captivating me within the infinite breadth of a wandering moment. my lungs frosted first freezing figures of frozen firs upon the memory of each breath. my blood ran cold like that winter river and I was a fish beneath its icy exterior and you have been wintergreen against my heart. a cold slap of circulating change penetrating each layer of protection. you have been wintergreen through them all and now you are wintergreen against my heart. a fresh perspective from the core of my being to the scales of my skin. a permeating resolution of piercing glacial coolness frosting the valves and chambers of this brumal beater. you have taken my breath from gelid gilded gills and scattered the shattered pieces of peace across this boreal landscape. from the hiemal heights of arctic aurora aura's to the lower polar valley's suspended in diamond dust--you have been wintergreen among them all and now these roots are too--cool, clear and growing--and i have never been so grateful for the cold that pierced and kissed this wintergreen heart.
0
Jan 31, 2021
Jan 31, 2021 at 9:51 AM UTC
wintergreen
Would you now go spitefully hating the sun Or go viciously plundering pretty flower beds Or go crushing underfoot, fall leaves in contempt Or turn gently into the fresh fold of snow? Come, come, dear child, hold out thy hands Let me gently embrace thy spindly frame And divest thee of thy onerous cloak For thou art at journey's end; thy vessel awaits repose. If I told you which season you'd die in Would you relent with ease, when the hour falls upon you? Should you know I'm not as fearsome as most believe Could you surrender the lent Light I must return? You already know the answer without knowing For it is not how you look, but how you look! You no longer remember, it's been so long So, I ask it plain: Would you really want to know? You are not just a spoke on the wheel of Life Which needs to, as the seasons, turn resolute Yet you pass through them all, simultaneously Save, your linear faculties confine your esoteric bridge. Take joy in aestival airs, the apex of fruition Springtime soil so easily squandered, bear in mind Access introspective glimpses with hiemal hibernation Autumnal foliage is but a screen, time to get real! You cannot have the sunshine without the rain Nor expect fine blossoms without fair travail Seek thus the true bounty bedecked in full view If you had but the seer's eyeless sight, dear guest. As you travelled from one season to another Did you live fully, even in between them? Yes, the tiny labyrinth-passages you overlooked Time to exact the price now run overdue. Too attached you are to world and kin For none of these, can you take with you But beneficial acts and and good intent Cosmic trick of genes is cecity delivered. The one whose life you may regard so worthless Retains a level which allows his soul to pass through The eye of a needle, not measured in numbers Hoist your soul on, tilt your core... I carry you home So, come, wayworn traveller, hold out thy hands Let me tenderly close thy brief visit here And divest thee of thy onerous cloak, prithee For thou art at journey's end; thy vessel awaits repose. Star Toucher, 24 March 2013
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Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 4:06 AM UTC
If I told you which season you'd die in......
Would you now go spitefully hating the sun Or go viciously plundering pretty flower beds Or go crushing underfoot, fall leaves in contempt Or turn gently into the fresh fold of snow? Come, come, dear child, hold out thy hands Let me gently embrace thy spindly frame And divest thee of thy onerous cloak For thou art at journey's end; thy vessel awaits repose. If I told you which season you'd die in Would you relent with ease, when the hour falls upon you? Should you know I'm not as fearsome as most believe Could you surrender the lent Light I must return? You already know the answer without knowing For it is not how you look, but how you look! You no longer remember, it's been so long So, I ask it plain: Would you really want to know? You are not just a spoke on the wheel of Life Which needs to, as the seasons, turn resolute Yet you pass through them all, simultaneously Save, your linear faculties confine your esoteric bridge. Take joy in aestival airs, the apex of fruition Springtime soil so easily squandered, bear in mind Access introspective glimpses with hiemal hibernation Autumnal foliage is but a screen, time to get real! You cannot have the sunshine without the rain Nor expect fine blossoms without fair travail Seek thus the true bounty bedecked in full view If you had but the seer's eyeless sight, dear guest. As you travelled from one season to another Did you live fully, even in between them? Yes, the tiny labyrinth-passages you overlooked Time to exact the price now run overdue. Too attached you are to world and kin For none of these, can you take with you But beneficial acts and and good intent Cosmic trick of genes is cecity delivered. The one whose life you may regard so worthless Retains a level which allows his soul to pass through The eye of a needle, not measured in numbers Hoist your soul on, tilt your core... I carry you home So, come, wayworn traveller, hold out thy hands Let me tenderly close thy brief visit here And divest thee of thy onerous cloak, prithee For thou art at journey's end; thy vessel awaits repose. Star Toucher, 24 March 2013
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45
Creaky withered wood abruptly freed from it's jamb Flung inward into the cottage by violent gust Releases a torrent of feathery flakes That bite the skin and chill the air Riding in on a robust and wintry gale Hiemal gladiators stampede inward Toward the scorching hearth That is ablaze with a passionate fire Crackling madly at the brumal intruders White blistering embers fly wildly And the tiny snow soldiers marching in bravely Never stood a chance
0
May 18, 2011
May 18, 2011 at 4:15 PM UTC
Hiemal Soldier's Blistering War
For the longest time, words were like bricks in the mouth. Weighing down, suffocating and harmful. For the shortest time, words flowed like so many rivers headed home through drying basins, rising rivers, past gargantuan sheets of ice and through the town one may call home.                                                                                    Sealed shut.                                                                            The words build again. Thoughts, memories, ideas, the resentful wave of hiemal turquoise waters crashing upon the furrowed brow of inconsequence. To tell truths would be dignified, one isn't always able to choose such an ideology. Often an ideology is ****** upon the undeserved. Perhaps through social conditioning or other such time honoured institutions. History should not and yet does often repeat itself. Although each generation is different, as is every single person that, does walk this planet, has walked this planet, and ever will walk this fine planet.                                                                          Cosmos over Chaos For those that choose to read, the world is yours, the plants, the animals, every Microorganism, each and every grain of sand that litters the shorelines like a googolplex of fine jewels for an undecided amount of monarchs, rulers of lands and emperors of distant planets that in no way resemble our own. For you are such people. For those that choose to love, amour you shall receive, every kiss that screams of desire, every touch of heavenly organs, every man woman and child that has ever felt the imperious desire to hold another body closer than is physically possible.  In this dimension at least. Every time one embraces another you shall feel love. You shall experience me as I experience you. Worlds apart, countries apart, towns, villages, houses apart, metres apart... atoms apart.                                                        You will be of one ever tender consciousness.                                                                     The truest of all consciousness.                                                                                            One.
0
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 6:39 PM UTC
Silence in Cities, Vast Trenches of Flowing Thoughts
For the longest time, words were like bricks in the mouth. Weighing down, suffocating and harmful. For the shortest time, words flowed like so many rivers headed home through drying basins, rising rivers, past gargantuan sheets of ice and through the town one may call home.                                                                                    Sealed shut.                                                                            The words build again. Thoughts, memories, ideas, the resentful wave of hiemal turquoise waters crashing upon the furrowed brow of inconsequence. To tell truths would be dignified, one isn't always able to choose such an ideology. Often an ideology is ****** upon the undeserved. Perhaps through social conditioning or other such time honoured institutions. History should not and yet does often repeat itself. Although each generation is different, as is every single person that, does walk this planet, has walked this planet, and ever will walk this fine planet.                                                                          Cosmos over Chaos For those that choose to read, the world is yours, the plants, the animals, every Microorganism, each and every grain of sand that litters the shorelines like a googolplex of fine jewels for an undecided amount of monarchs, rulers of lands and emperors of distant planets that in no way resemble our own. For you are such people. For those that choose to love, amour you shall receive, every kiss that screams of desire, every touch of heavenly organs, every man woman and child that has ever felt the imperious desire to hold another body closer than is physically possible.  In this dimension at least. Every time one embraces another you shall feel love. You shall experience me as I experience you. Worlds apart, countries apart, towns, villages, houses apart, metres apart... atoms apart.                                                        You will be of one ever tender consciousness.                                                                     The truest of all consciousness.                                                                                            One.
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16
Birdy, mind your ears: my howls dash the desert’s edge My passing gusts will matt your feathers fair and faint And scratch your eyes of liquid soul with grainy kiss And gentle downy is unsuited for the desert’s bipolar breadth Accompanied by what I fear is desperate, decrepit depth Yet you flutter further in the flats, breaching the jagged heart-planes Doleful dabs of curt dismay smatter some sodden planes The wrenching, soaked, woolly pelt fumbles at the edge And he hopelessly attempts to slow his slide into the depths The depths ****** in dew to make heaving paws faint Paws drowning in imbued imbalance: my broken flooded breadth Washed out and faded just short of amber kiss Who does he yowl at night to kiss? A range of mismatched capricious planes Breath for miles of biome breadth Between each bound a splitting edge As fate would weave, his heart is faint And craves impassioned, tender depth Perhaps the hiemal hillsides bear a greater, sanguine depth Beneath the snow are pines to smell, daffodils to kiss Amid the pungent, frigid, fear the air contains a faint Hint of something sweeter there, buried in the planes And when the blunt ice trickles warm, beneath the caustic edge A range of life of a new kind: unbeguiling breadth Who forsaw the vanguard hunch of birds and bears for breadth? Not I believed that birds could dive in deserts and find depth Not I believed that bears could whet love from sharp edge Not I believed, thus almost missed, fate’s gentle ghostly kiss Not I believed and thus I blew dark clouds across the planes Not I believed in him, thus it was I who was so faint And in the meadows lions crawl and crocodiles faint And happily, with wherewithal, the boa to gaur breadth All coexist in mystery perplexing on placid planes Burrowing through sand and snow, birds and bears find depth Jumbled earth and tumbled thoughts, a misty morning kiss Stitches the bipolar planes and hems the obscure edge Across the crystal planes you see their trusting dives to depths The bird’s faint singing drifts through waves as it explores the breadth The bear’s protective kisses peek just beyond the edge
0
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 10:18 PM UTC
Oddity
Birdy, mind your ears: my howls dash the desert’s edge My passing gusts will matt your feathers fair and faint And scratch your eyes of liquid soul with grainy kiss And gentle downy is unsuited for the desert’s bipolar breadth Accompanied by what I fear is desperate, decrepit depth Yet you flutter further in the flats, breaching the jagged heart-planes Doleful dabs of curt dismay smatter some sodden planes The wrenching, soaked, woolly pelt fumbles at the edge And he hopelessly attempts to slow his slide into the depths The depths ****** in dew to make heaving paws faint Paws drowning in imbued imbalance: my broken flooded breadth Washed out and faded just short of amber kiss Who does he yowl at night to kiss? A range of mismatched capricious planes Breath for miles of biome breadth Between each bound a splitting edge As fate would weave, his heart is faint And craves impassioned, tender depth Perhaps the hiemal hillsides bear a greater, sanguine depth Beneath the snow are pines to smell, daffodils to kiss Amid the pungent, frigid, fear the air contains a faint Hint of something sweeter there, buried in the planes And when the blunt ice trickles warm, beneath the caustic edge A range of life of a new kind: unbeguiling breadth Who forsaw the vanguard hunch of birds and bears for breadth? Not I believed that birds could dive in deserts and find depth Not I believed that bears could whet love from sharp edge Not I believed, thus almost missed, fate’s gentle ghostly kiss Not I believed and thus I blew dark clouds across the planes Not I believed in him, thus it was I who was so faint And in the meadows lions crawl and crocodiles faint And happily, with wherewithal, the boa to gaur breadth All coexist in mystery perplexing on placid planes Burrowing through sand and snow, birds and bears find depth Jumbled earth and tumbled thoughts, a misty morning kiss Stitches the bipolar planes and hems the obscure edge Across the crystal planes you see their trusting dives to depths The bird’s faint singing drifts through waves as it explores the breadth The bear’s protective kisses peek just beyond the edge
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39
Rays of Sun baptismal,/ Glisten upon my / Sol- Dazed epidermis / As I / Waft in throes / Of Beauteous romance & / Wax hypnotized by / The sweet nothings of my/ Desiderata Materialista Transcendentalista. / Resting in the algid embrace of / The Hiemal Winds / Atop my / Voluptuary Ivory Tower, / In this cup I, I savor the flavor, / Of ambrosia stimulanté: / —Rousing me with each sip, / Of sweet deific nectar, / Starbucks Pike Place with White Chocolate Mocha Creamer. / The former barista in me, / Waxes & wanes in waves; moreover / The past is derelict, / The future is nigh, / The present is luminous / As I / Wonder Upon / The seasons, the distance, the space, and the time,/ That separates me from mi amour, ~ a moment in time. / (—Se’ lah)
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Feb 20, 2025
Feb 20, 2025 at 10:23 PM UTC
| A Moment In Time (Originally penned on Thursday, February 20th, 2025 )|
Sediment slabs purl down soft rock, parched charcoal lathers soot - scintillate, smothered form in slate deluge, where the sun can take refuge, saturnine in the hiemal shift of the alcove, and nebulous spume caroms - gaseous halations , off scalding waters, sweet smoke arise, tenuous strings of light gossamer in the eyes , meshed scales loll down, corona tendrils stream over sunken psilocybe, equilibrium sun-warped - flares effulgent, seeping into trails of salt-lacerated skin, wax beads singeing skin - summer hit of apocalypse fever
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Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 4:27 AM UTC
Labyrinthine
taut beneath midnight stippled skin you lay stifled in humid half light stymied fingers between edgy estival beats drum your chest fluid smooth over wind-whipped knees my hiemal body pours a blasé moon briefly strains to contour my salt slapped cheeks I begged her that lunar ***** to rake gelid slivers across your skin my name wistfully hissed where fingers would skate to patent my cure for your searing need but that vainglorious orb kept you her guiltless reflection swells in your dolorous eyes as she pins you taut beneath midnight stippled skin
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Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 7:17 AM UTC
the moon always gets to you first
windows open in winter lonely, hiemal caress I feel my veins curl wilt like pulled ribbon they cramp under the muscle cold stifling the crimson the blood collects in my cheeks pools there; potent, pressing but he brandishes the pain – I watch him thrash the world off of the hems of his cuffs offer a fist to his cries I watch him dance around his ills like they are open flame around his feet bold, loudmouth his thoughts bounce right from the brim of his broken lips with no caution; it is to the wind only a fool could be so confident
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Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 6:30 PM UTC
white knuckle
bless the wind that brings you a sickness he only wishes to bring you a smell and a taste of faraway lands and of faraway times he wishes not to bring you this dread hiemal curse only caress and embrace passers-by on his unending route it is of love, not of hate that the wind makes it so do not fault him, but bless him the wind and his curse, and love him for love is the only thing true bless him, the traveler, leave a song in his current and a kiss in his unending route love and bless the wind that brings you such fine things as these love and bless the wind and forgive his disease
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Dec 7, 2024
Dec 7, 2024 at 7:24 AM UTC
windsong
I have grasped how cold it's grown now I cannot feel your hands..
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Dec 11, 2021
Dec 11, 2021 at 1:05 AM UTC
Hiemal