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"hinnom" poems
Incorporeal wooing -- benighted brown study, slow to bleed, turning on its axis, wintergreen leaf in free fall, when all alone the butterfly escapes the killing jar, to parlously play along this dulcet bine, strumming crura, like Orlando to faire Rosalind in the Valley of Hinnom, "a hunger uncurbed by nature's calling," which prayerfully ascends, asking for cotyledon to appear by break of day/dream.
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Aug 3, 2020
Aug 3, 2020 at 10:41 AM UTC
Carlo-C-Gomez
Valley of Hinnom
Incorporeal wooing -- benighted brown study, slow to bleed, turning on its axis, wintergreen leaf in free fall, when all alone the butterfly escapes the killing jar, to parlously play along this dulcet bine, strumming crura, like Orlando to faire Rosalind in the Valley of Hinnom, "a hunger uncurbed by nature's calling," which prayerfully ascends, asking for cotyledon to appear by break of day/dream.
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17
here i stand, in this bleak and forsaken place     the crackle of fire resounding ceaselessly in my ears     a hot desert sun beats down on my head     making the valley burn like a furnace     the slow burn of my anger     it consumed me like a ravenous beast     i fed it more and more     the memories that rankled and burned like acid     my tongue, it cleaves to the roof of my mouth     and my eyes have ceased to tear from the grit of dust     the harsh cries of crows are mocking me     raca! raca! their never ending mantra     i called you an immense fool     my gross assessment of your character     kept me blind and deaf     unaware of the fate that awaited me in the valley     my body, desperately crying out for some relief     in this vale that mourns the blood of innocent children     nearly falls to the ground in its feebleness     who can wash me clean from my sin?     i had the chance to be clean     but i kept my pet, my utter resentment     cuddled up to my chest     where it gorged itself on my soul, piece by piece     i beg mercy of Him now in my despair     my heart leaden in my chest     it’s then that i feel the first drop of rain     as the doors of heavens open on me     a holy and purifying deluge sweeps in     it washes away the guilt and shame     and there in the midst of it all     i find myself in the hollow of His hand.
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Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 4:21 PM UTC
m-elizabeth-penn
in the valley of hinnom
here i stand, in this bleak and forsaken place     the crackle of fire resounding ceaselessly in my ears     a hot desert sun beats down on my head     making the valley burn like a furnace     the slow burn of my anger     it consumed me like a ravenous beast     i fed it more and more     the memories that rankled and burned like acid     my tongue, it cleaves to the roof of my mouth     and my eyes have ceased to tear from the grit of dust     the harsh cries of crows are mocking me     raca! raca! their never ending mantra     i called you an immense fool     my gross assessment of your character     kept me blind and deaf     unaware of the fate that awaited me in the valley     my body, desperately crying out for some relief     in this vale that mourns the blood of innocent children     nearly falls to the ground in its feebleness     who can wash me clean from my sin?     i had the chance to be clean     but i kept my pet, my utter resentment     cuddled up to my chest     where it gorged itself on my soul, piece by piece     i beg mercy of Him now in my despair     my heart leaden in my chest     it’s then that i feel the first drop of rain     as the doors of heavens open on me     a holy and purifying deluge sweeps in     it washes away the guilt and shame     and there in the midst of it all     i find myself in the hollow of His hand.
Continue reading...
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