"hoarseness" poems - Hello Poetry

Go to sleep—though of course you will not— to tideless waves thundering slantwise against strong embankments, rattle and swish of spray dashed thirty feet high, caught by the lake wind, scattered and strewn broadcast in over the steady car rails! Sleep, sleep! Gulls’ cries in a wind-gust broken by the wind; calculating wings set above the field of waves breaking. Go to sleep to the lunge between foam-crests, refuse churned in the recoil. Food! Food! Offal! Offal! that holds them in the air, wave-white for the one purpose, feather upon feather, the wild chill in their eyes, the hoarseness in their voices— sleep, sleep . . . Gentlefooted crowds are treading out your lullaby. Their arms nudge, they brush shoulders, hitch this way then that, mass and surge at the crossings— lullaby, lullaby! The wild-fowl police whistles, the enraged roar of the traffic, machine shrieks: it is all to put you to sleep, to soften your limbs in relaxed postures, and that your head slip sidewise, and your hair loosen and fall over your eyes and over your mouth, brushing your lips wistfully that you may dream, sleep and dream— A black fungus springs out about the lonely church doors— sleep, sleep. The Night, coming down upon the wet boulevard, would start you awake with his message, to have in at your window. Pay no heed to him. He storms at your sill with cooings, with gesticulations, curses! You will not let him in. He would keep you from sleeping. He would have you sit under your desk lamp brooding, pondering; he would have you slide out the drawer, take up the ornamented dagger and handle it. It is late, it is nineteen-nineteen— go to sleep, his cries are a lullaby; his jabbering is a sleep-well-my-baby; he is a crackbrained messenger. The maid waking you in the morning when you are up and dressing, the rustle of your clothes as you raise them— it is the same tune. At table the cold, greeninsh, split grapefruit, its juice on the tongue, the clink of the spoon in your coffee, the toast odors say it over and over. The open street-door lets in the breath of the morning wind from over the lake. The bus coming to a halt grinds from its sullen brakes— lullaby, lullaby. The crackle of a newspaper, the movement of the troubled coat beside you— sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep . . . It is the sting of snow, the burning liquor of the moonlight, the rush of rain in the gutters packed with dead leaves: go to sleep, go to sleep. And the night passes—and never passes—

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William Carlos Williams

A Goodnight

Go to sleep—though of course you will not— to tideless waves thundering slantwise against strong embankments, rattle and swish of spray dashed thirty feet high, caught by the lake wind, scattered and strewn broadcast in over the steady car rails! Sleep, sleep! Gulls’ cries in a wind-gust broken by the wind; calculating wings set above the field of waves breaking. Go to sleep to the lunge between foam-crests, refuse churned in the recoil. Food! Food! Offal! Offal! that holds them in the air, wave-white for the one purpose, feather upon feather, the wild chill in their eyes, the hoarseness in their voices— sleep, sleep . . . Gentlefooted crowds are treading out your lullaby. Their arms nudge, they brush shoulders, hitch this way then that, mass and surge at the crossings— lullaby, lullaby! The wild-fowl police whistles, the enraged roar of the traffic, machine shrieks: it is all to put you to sleep, to soften your limbs in relaxed postures, and that your head slip sidewise, and your hair loosen and fall over your eyes and over your mouth, brushing your lips wistfully that you may dream, sleep and dream— A black fungus springs out about the lonely church doors— sleep, sleep. The Night, coming down upon the wet boulevard, would start you awake with his message, to have in at your window. Pay no heed to him. He storms at your sill with cooings, with gesticulations, curses! You will not let him in. He would keep you from sleeping. He would have you sit under your desk lamp brooding, pondering; he would have you slide out the drawer, take up the ornamented dagger and handle it. It is late, it is nineteen-nineteen— go to sleep, his cries are a lullaby; his jabbering is a sleep-well-my-baby; he is a crackbrained messenger. The maid waking you in the morning when you are up and dressing, the rustle of your clothes as you raise them— it is the same tune. At table the cold, greeninsh, split grapefruit, its juice on the tongue, the clink of the spoon in your coffee, the toast odors say it over and over. The open street-door lets in the breath of the morning wind from over the lake. The bus coming to a halt grinds from its sullen brakes— lullaby, lullaby. The crackle of a newspaper, the movement of the troubled coat beside you— sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep . . . It is the sting of snow, the burning liquor of the moonlight, the rush of rain in the gutters packed with dead leaves: go to sleep, go to sleep. And the night passes—and never passes—

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If any of the following side effects occur while taking prednisone, check with your doctor immediately: More common Aggression agitation anxiety blurred vision decrease in the amount of ***** dizziness fast, slow, pounding, or irregular heartbeat or pulse headache irritability mental depression mood changes nervousness noisy, rattling breathing numbness or tingling in the arms or legs pounding in the ears shortness of breath swelling of the fingers, hands, feet, or lower legs trouble thinking, speaking, or walking troubled breathing at rest weight gain Incidence not known Abdominal or stomach cramping or burning (severe) abdominal or stomach pain backache ****** black, or tarry stools cough or hoarseness darkening of skin decrease in height decreased vision diarrhea dry mouth eye pain eye tearing ****** hair growth in females fainting fever or chills flushed, dry skin fractures fruit-like breath odor full or round face, neck, or trunk heartburn or indigestion (severe and continuous) increased hunger increased thirst increased urination loss of appetite loss of ****** desire or ability lower back or side pain menstrual irregularities muscle pain or tenderness muscle wasting or weakness nausea pain in back, ribs, arms, or legs painful or difficult urination skin rash sleeplessness sweating trouble healing trouble sleeping unexplained weight loss unusual tiredness or weakness vision changes vomiting vomiting of material that looks like coffee grounds Some prednisone side effects may not need any medical attention. As your body gets used to the medicine these side effects may disappear. Your health care professional may be able to help you prevent or reduce these side effects, but do check with them if any of the following side effects continue, or if you are concerned about them: More common Increased appetite Incidence not known Abnormal fat deposits on the face, neck, and trunk acne dry scalp lightening of normal skin color red face reddish purple lines on the arms, face, legs, trunk, or groin swelling of the stomach area thinning of the scalp hair

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Dec 18, 2015

Dec 18, 2015 at 11:24 PM UTC

sam-stone-grenier

Prednisone Side Effects

If any of the following side effects occur while taking prednisone, check with your doctor immediately: More common Aggression agitation anxiety blurred vision decrease in the amount of ***** dizziness fast, slow, pounding, or irregular heartbeat or pulse headache irritability mental depression mood changes nervousness noisy, rattling breathing numbness or tingling in the arms or legs pounding in the ears shortness of breath swelling of the fingers, hands, feet, or lower legs trouble thinking, speaking, or walking troubled breathing at rest weight gain Incidence not known Abdominal or stomach cramping or burning (severe) abdominal or stomach pain backache ****** black, or tarry stools cough or hoarseness darkening of skin decrease in height decreased vision diarrhea dry mouth eye pain eye tearing ****** hair growth in females fainting fever or chills flushed, dry skin fractures fruit-like breath odor full or round face, neck, or trunk heartburn or indigestion (severe and continuous) increased hunger increased thirst increased urination loss of appetite loss of ****** desire or ability lower back or side pain menstrual irregularities muscle pain or tenderness muscle wasting or weakness nausea pain in back, ribs, arms, or legs painful or difficult urination skin rash sleeplessness sweating trouble healing trouble sleeping unexplained weight loss unusual tiredness or weakness vision changes vomiting vomiting of material that looks like coffee grounds Some prednisone side effects may not need any medical attention. As your body gets used to the medicine these side effects may disappear. Your health care professional may be able to help you prevent or reduce these side effects, but do check with them if any of the following side effects continue, or if you are concerned about them: More common Increased appetite Incidence not known Abnormal fat deposits on the face, neck, and trunk acne dry scalp lightening of normal skin color red face reddish purple lines on the arms, face, legs, trunk, or groin swelling of the stomach area thinning of the scalp hair

77

Climb into bed and... Hearth embers of body heat circulate, Tourists on self-guided walking tours, Exploring the cabalistic eighteen chai holies of the Human body, temple depository of spark divine. Heat sparkles cross over the isthmus of Touching Toes, Continental negotiators, swapping free heat for icicles, 2 X 10 interstitial connections, now land masses filled, Global warming credit trading par excellence Fingers, jew wandering, exiled to freedom, Intertwined within soft-edged, graying sea grasses, Coverlet over pounding chest, Hands illegally mining tousled head hair, Nestling, nesting, without proper permits Lick away the rumbling hoarseness Coating a neighboring sleepy throat, Gate crasher bringing surround-sound comfort, Seeking to seal and still the groans, Escaping prisoners of the ills of the wearied mind Your favorite parts inspiring, demanding Song, word, drawing or simple quenching, Tonic of revival, an affirmation of self, Existence proofs met through need I write this for me, for her, for you. Suckers for iron pyrite, most will skip this polemic, What you don't know about me could be a Hit show on prime time cable TV. Like a cute commercial that makes you smile, For a product you'll never buy, I write this for me, for her, for anonymous you, I am the voyager, you the ****** Middle of the night envisioner, Re-writer of The Gift of the Magi,^ If I die today, I leave this as my last Will and Testament, Just another love poem You'll never read.

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Jan 22, 2014

Jan 22, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC

nat-lipstadt

Just another poem you'll never read

Climb into bed and... Hearth embers of body heat circulate, Tourists on self-guided walking tours, Exploring the cabalistic eighteen chai holies of the Human body, temple depository of spark divine. Heat sparkles cross over the isthmus of Touching Toes, Continental negotiators, swapping free heat for icicles, 2 X 10 interstitial connections, now land masses filled, Global warming credit trading par excellence Fingers, jew wandering, exiled to freedom, Intertwined within soft-edged, graying sea grasses, Coverlet over pounding chest, Hands illegally mining tousled head hair, Nestling, nesting, without proper permits Lick away the rumbling hoarseness Coating a neighboring sleepy throat, Gate crasher bringing surround-sound comfort, Seeking to seal and still the groans, Escaping prisoners of the ills of the wearied mind Your favorite parts inspiring, demanding Song, word, drawing or simple quenching, Tonic of revival, an affirmation of self, Existence proofs met through need I write this for me, for her, for you. Suckers for iron pyrite, most will skip this polemic, What you don't know about me could be a Hit show on prime time cable TV. Like a cute commercial that makes you smile, For a product you'll never buy, I write this for me, for her, for anonymous you, I am the voyager, you the ****** Middle of the night envisioner, Re-writer of The Gift of the Magi,^ If I die today, I leave this as my last Will and Testament, Just another love poem You'll never read.

37

My house seemed unusually quiet As I rang the hoarse calling bell Quickly it passed my thought Did I come to the wrong address? The bell’s hoarseness shattered the peace Something my house never did grace The trademark noise one can never miss So had I come at the wrong address? She slowly came and opened the gate The house was dark but for one room I wondered if she slept till late So there still hung a pall of gloom. I sniffed the air to find what was amiss Shook my head a little to shrug off the fears Reigned everywhere a distraught-ing peace In the house I’ve been returning for years. I tiptoed on the floor lest it broke the silence The hush appeared so incredible and fragile The thought that peace even could make one tense I couldn’t repress the inward flowing smile. ‘Why the house is so quiet dear what’s the mystery?’ I saw a flirting smile prancing on her face ‘For a change I have switched off the TV So you think you’ve come to the wrong address'!

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Nov 6, 2013

Nov 6, 2013 at 5:29 AM UTC

pradip-chattopadhyay

Wrong Address

My house seemed unusually quiet As I rang the hoarse calling bell Quickly it passed my thought Did I come to the wrong address? The bell’s hoarseness shattered the peace Something my house never did grace The trademark noise one can never miss So had I come at the wrong address? She slowly came and opened the gate The house was dark but for one room I wondered if she slept till late So there still hung a pall of gloom. I sniffed the air to find what was amiss Shook my head a little to shrug off the fears Reigned everywhere a distraught-ing peace In the house I’ve been returning for years. I tiptoed on the floor lest it broke the silence The hush appeared so incredible and fragile The thought that peace even could make one tense I couldn’t repress the inward flowing smile. ‘Why the house is so quiet dear what’s the mystery?’ I saw a flirting smile prancing on her face ‘For a change I have switched off the TV So you think you’ve come to the wrong address'!

24

Why are you crying Early in the morning I can hear it echoes through me Will you tell me why? Why, Do I hear pain? Why, Do I hear fear? Why... I hear your tears? Dripping down the floors... Your Voice, filled Hoarseness. Stop— you know that I can also feel your ghost.

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Aug 10, 2021

Aug 10, 2021 at 8:36 PM UTC

Myung_Mi

Ghost

Why are you crying Early in the morning I can hear it echoes through me Will you tell me why? Why, Do I hear pain? Why, Do I hear fear? Why... I hear your tears? Dripping down the floors... Your Voice, filled Hoarseness. Stop— you know that I can also feel your ghost.

11

he was beautiful, but not in the ways we covet so often. he did not have hair i could run my fingers through or soft skin to touch; his eyes sat deep under a too-thick brow, his hair was a tangled mess, and his face was rough as concrete. he was not outgoing and eloquent, nor was he cultured— but he was beautiful in the way a whisper threads through air in the way a spider dances in the way one stands among ruins and breathes softer, in awe of the quiet power of the place, as if a gasp would shatter the stones he was beautiful like the red flush of shame, in the way rough terrain tells more intimate stories than a smooth road, in the way thunderstorms are a thousand times more glorious than the sunshine, in the way the hoarseness in your throat is triumphant after losing your voice to screams of joy ...he was beautiful because his was a purposeful ugliness he was beautiful because he tried so hard not to be

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Dec 4, 2013

Dec 4, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC

enpointephoenix

beauty

he was beautiful, but not in the ways we covet so often. he did not have hair i could run my fingers through or soft skin to touch; his eyes sat deep under a too-thick brow, his hair was a tangled mess, and his face was rough as concrete. he was not outgoing and eloquent, nor was he cultured— but he was beautiful in the way a whisper threads through air in the way a spider dances in the way one stands among ruins and breathes softer, in awe of the quiet power of the place, as if a gasp would shatter the stones he was beautiful like the red flush of shame, in the way rough terrain tells more intimate stories than a smooth road, in the way thunderstorms are a thousand times more glorious than the sunshine, in the way the hoarseness in your throat is triumphant after losing your voice to screams of joy ...he was beautiful because his was a purposeful ugliness he was beautiful because he tried so hard not to be

30

I loved you so much, to the pain in my temples. My love was a billow that made one’s blood cold. I looked for you wolfish till one drops, till hoarseness. I saw you in each one and ripped myself cold. My nights are sleepless, my mornings are lack. I try to conceal myself and hide you in whole. My heart is pulseless, my mind is dark. I know it’s folly, but I need you all.

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Feb 6, 2025

Feb 6, 2025 at 2:47 PM UTC

LoveMelody

I loved you so much!

I loved you so much, to the pain in my temples. My love was a billow that made one’s blood cold. I looked for you wolfish till one drops, till hoarseness. I saw you in each one and ripped myself cold. My nights are sleepless, my mornings are lack. I try to conceal myself and hide you in whole. My heart is pulseless, my mind is dark. I know it’s folly, but I need you all.

8

She loves you... and me AND I AM YELLING TO YOU TO PLAY EM' DAT' GUITAR Squeal of a hawk's only finite point of glottal hoarseness Hack n' cough Not a single drop be here my love Lest she be a T.V.

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Dec 28, 2013

Dec 28, 2013 at 10:33 PM UTC

gabriel-peter-green

Easy There Mr. Murphy

She loves you... and me AND I AM YELLING TO YOU TO PLAY EM' DAT' GUITAR Squeal of a hawk's only finite point of glottal hoarseness Hack n' cough Not a single drop be here my love Lest she be a T.V.

6

The day came to an end as the fiery embers of the burning sun hung low and hid behind bruised clouds, setting into the darkening ground far off into the horizon. I looked down and checked the aged and black shaft of the arrow that I absentmindedly twirled between the worn life grooves of my hand. It had been shot many times and taken just as many lives but still remained true and sturdy. The broad head could have used a little sharpening but was still sharp enough to tear and rip thru the thick flesh of most big game. I muttered softly and straggly as I checked the nock. The hoarseness in my voice telling me that it had been a long time since I took a sip from my flask. The smell of courage hung in the air of my breath after a few small gulps; enough to feel the warmth spread evenly over the taste of my tongue and into my bloodstream, coursing it's burn thruout the extremities of my body. I watched out of the broken tree limbs, thorn bush, and **** grass makeshift blind and kept my eyes peeled on the decaying sunlit landscape for any signs of movement as the hunger in my stomach grumbled it's ache aloud. I took another drink to quiet it down and notched the arrow onto the string of my Hoyt compound bow, reading the arrow and my nerves for the **** that I had been anticipating and waiting for the past twelve hours but had also been waiting and anticipating for many days of my long and tired life...

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Sep 4, 2015

Sep 4, 2015 at 8:21 PM UTC

TonguesOfOthers

Safari

The day came to an end as the fiery embers of the burning sun hung low and hid behind bruised clouds, setting into the darkening ground far off into the horizon. I looked down and checked the aged and black shaft of the arrow that I absentmindedly twirled between the worn life grooves of my hand. It had been shot many times and taken just as many lives but still remained true and sturdy. The broad head could have used a little sharpening but was still sharp enough to tear and rip thru the thick flesh of most big game. I muttered softly and straggly as I checked the nock. The hoarseness in my voice telling me that it had been a long time since I took a sip from my flask. The smell of courage hung in the air of my breath after a few small gulps; enough to feel the warmth spread evenly over the taste of my tongue and into my bloodstream, coursing it's burn thruout the extremities of my body. I watched out of the broken tree limbs, thorn bush, and **** grass makeshift blind and kept my eyes peeled on the decaying sunlit landscape for any signs of movement as the hunger in my stomach grumbled it's ache aloud. I took another drink to quiet it down and notched the arrow onto the string of my Hoyt compound bow, reading the arrow and my nerves for the **** that I had been anticipating and waiting for the past twelve hours but had also been waiting and anticipating for many days of my long and tired life...

1

I can hear the hoarseness in his voice. The way his voice croaks every time he speaks to me on the phone, as if he'd cried all the water out of his body. The way i can imagine him clinging to his chest as his heart physically breaks. With the past he's had , there's no doubt he's in a bad place. The emotion in his eyes, crashing like wild waves. He's been hurt. But haven't we all? Yet when i hear his sobs, or see the tears flow from his beautiful eyes, It pains me more than anything ever has.

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Jul 17, 2017

Jul 17, 2017 at 9:11 PM UTC

singingsoni

My love

I can hear the hoarseness in his voice. The way his voice croaks every time he speaks to me on the phone, as if he'd cried all the water out of his body. The way i can imagine him clinging to his chest as his heart physically breaks. With the past he's had , there's no doubt he's in a bad place. The emotion in his eyes, crashing like wild waves. He's been hurt. But haven't we all? Yet when i hear his sobs, or see the tears flow from his beautiful eyes, It pains me more than anything ever has.

13