"hollowly" poems
noun.
hot-rod red, boiling—veins snake, denim—skin throbs.
my eyelids are pounding.
dozens of sparrows, pushing at pale canvas.
thunder gasps at the
caverns
of my lungs.
lightning
at the fuse.
noun.
an Edgar warning;
thumping at wooden chest,
racing.
it just echos.
i am not your dictionary.
i am not your dictionary.
reverberate.
reverberate.
reverberate.
hollowly, it
hymns.
muffled by fire-truck cloth
and sun-starved cotton.
noun.
blue trees dance to the
rhythm,
singing up at skylight eyes.
reverberate.
breathe.
reverberate.
repeat.
noun.
Dec 11, 2018
Dec 11, 2018 at 2:08 AM UTC
what i said:
"you sound rough this morning."
what i meant:
"your voice is lavender and honey and tea time and supernovas colliding with gentle breezes and if i could wake up to it, just once, cocooned in a tangle of your arms and couch cushions and that blanket you keep in the back of your car, i swear by the stars in my eyes no one on this godforsaken planet would be out of earshot of my singing
i hope that tonight when i dream of you--it is no longer a matter of uncertainty, but anticipation--you speak like you've just overslept your alarm and frantically motored yourself to where i am, like is the case today.
i wish you had chosen me but if i could only listen to you speak to me, about anything--rivers or math homework or football or belonging or music or even your girlfriend--i promise i would listen with the beating urgency of a swimmer in a frozen stream, i would savor each word from your lips, like they were the spring and i was the underground daisy waiting for your kiss.
and in precisely three days i will have an essay to compose about a beautiful topic that would consume me thoroughly were it not for the memory of your groggy morning voice, so full of raspy complacency i can't breathe but instead of fulfilling my obligations i will be hashing out halfway comprehensible poetry about you and crying about how i cannot recreate the sound of your voice with any combination of hollowly clicking keys.
you are so beautiful that i could spend the remainder of my life with a five-subject notebook, scrawling 'your eyes. your smile. your hands. your voice' over and over endlessly and die feeling as though i had lived a thousand years of quiet adventure.
you are so much and too much for me and i have no idea why you see as much in me as you do but i will not question it, for fear that if i were to come too close to you, to run my fingers along the marvel of your face you would shrivel and unfurl into nonexistence, like the leaf in the fire."
and also:
"why can't your voice always sound like this?"
and finally:
******* you're attractive"
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 12:24 AM UTC
They kept her in the attic with the rest of the nonsense
An improvised pen and paper of fingernails and floorboards.
Cracked windows rusted shut from years of disuse
Chapped lips pinched shut from years of neglect.
Broken mirrors on the floor from outbursts no one heard
Shattered eyes blinking hollowly because no one was listening.
Patterns traced on dust covered windows letting bars of light shine through
Therapeutic
Sunlight outlining shadows that shouldn't be there, dust mites that should.
Daisy; the name she gave herself after forgetting her original.
Daisy; what she'd call herself should she ever get out.
Withered; what she became.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 1:22 PM UTC
All are not taken; there are left behind
Living Belovèds, tender looks to bring
And make the daylight still a happy thing,
And tender voices, to make soft the wind:
But if it were not so—if I could find
No love in all this world for comforting,
Nor any path but hollowly did ring
Where ‘dust to dust’ the love from life disjoin’d;
And if, before those sepulchres unmoving
I stood alone (as some forsaken lamb
Goes bleating up the moors in weary dearth)
Crying ‘Where are ye, O my loved and loving?’—
I know a voice would sound, ‘Daughter, I AM.
Can I suffice for Heaven and not for earth?’
2.3k
Mother Nature is swaying in the breeze, her branches strong.
Her life full and alive she sings with flowers and dances with the bees,
But her mind is boorish to the oncoming threat of November.
The startling entrance of Fall is like fire to her leaves,
New electricity attacks her arm’s protectors; prepared with strong green shields.
Yellow, orange, then deep red bleed into a burnt, crackled brown and black ash.
As her melodic hum of green vanishes, a starling yellow spark leaps,
Ablazed chaos now runs on her twisted, knotted, and wise branch-arms.
Eruptions of heat and confusion Mother Nature is seen screaming,
Raptured coldly, her green peace is painfully and hollowly attacked.
Her first shiver yesterday revealed her weakness,
Her shade flees, no longer able to stand the icy-sharp stabbings of winter.
Her annual sigh of defeat inevitably followed, thus beginning her hibernation,
Her tired arms creak and break, letting down their burnt sheaths,
Slowly spiraling down, down, down to the hungry ground.
Closing down to mourn Mother Nature is unclothed and shamed.
Her once green body now dried, bare, and cracked.
Withering winter brings blue death and ice to her brown skin.
Naked she shivers and freezes for three months to come.
But Spring will bring her a new strength and humility.
Mother Nature’s momentary fall will only chill, not ****
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 8:09 PM UTC
I cried for no apparent reason
I sobbed and teared my way out
Silently without any reason
I wailed hollowly as I silently shout
I laughed for not a single thing in mind
Smiling at everything in bliss
I stared wide eyed like in treasures we find
But deep in me something is amiss
The hollow feeling of something which is not there
The slight tingling of my numb soul
The feverish and endless hunger I bear
The empty shell drained from a gaping hole
I am born to be as one destined
To feel agony and joy
I have virtue yet I sinned
In deep eternity the lord's broken envoy
Of deep hatred and much love
The fear and bravery both halves
Like the flying crow and dove
I am a Yin and Yang created by the One Above.
Dec 26, 2016
Dec 26, 2016 at 3:34 AM UTC
The aged wood of the boardwalk echos hollowly, but has a damp undertone from the left behind wet footprints of the day.
We thud forward in silence, commenting trivially on the nights happenings when my attention is slowly stolen.
Silently, the night wind picks up the lost sand on the boards and sprinkles it across my feet, desperate to take my attention.
Uncaught by anyone but me, a waver in her voice in the prime of her retelling of her day,
Did she notice my distraction?
In a final attempt at shallow conversation we turn to talking about the weather.
But, the wind is greedy.
It whips the sea oats until they shiver and sigh, an eerie sound.
Silence.
Our final few steps on the board walk crunch. Crunch until. . .
Finally, our eager toes lick the sand, cooled by the wind and stars.
Naturally, unknowingly our toes dig and burrow in joy,
reminiscing to the innocent barefooted days in the sand-box.
The wind, eager again for my attention, breathes down my spine.
We quicken our pace.
As we drawn nearer to the ocean, the mist scares the cowardly wind away.
Sprinklings of salt, water, and sand speckle upon our sun kissed skin.
Laughter.
We lay down in the sand, each lost in our own worlds and look to the deep heavens above.
Reflections of depth and light, moon to sun, space to sea.
The peace found only in the bare nakedness of a bed of sand and friends.
Open.
Sheltered.
Free.
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 7:55 PM UTC
The pendulum swings
echoing inside the clock.
The muffled sound repeats,
tick, tock, tick, tock.
The noise echos hollowly
as if it is too empty to speak.
The rhythm is so off beat,
tick... tock... tick....... creek.
The clock's hands are failing
to point to the numbers on time.
The sound is now unnatural,
tick.. tock... tick...... chime.
The pendulum swings
slowly it falls apart like a thread.
The sound starts to echo,
tick..... tock.. tick....... dead.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 9:53 PM UTC
I wrote another neat bundle of words
Knotted them with coarse string
Smoothed the slick label over the bow
And licked my lips in guilt.
My heart has never thumped so hollowly in my chest.
Will you forgive me?
Dec 11, 2012
Dec 11, 2012 at 11:30 PM UTC
I'm empty of everything that early in the morning. No sleep, no hunger, no profound instinctual compulsions that you'd guess live deep in the bowels of the morning, when only the least complex form of each person exists. When it's that dark and that quiet, the heart is the only thing that matters.
I breathe, but each breath whooshes like wind through one open window and out the other. There's no substance in there; lungs don't catch and hold on. My chest moves hollowly, mechanically, as if it's some household appliance running incessantly. Like a light bulb glowing in a deserted house.
My eyes stare anywhere, at anything, at darkness and nothingness and up through space and time into worlds where each speck of dust is an infinite entity. I'm restless, too hot under normally snug covers, my arms wanting to reach out and grab hold of something more substantial than what I have. Have you ever had that feeling? Of just wanting to reach out, out, out into the atmosphere, farther, longer, feel the power reverberating through your arm, and feel the stretch of your muscles and tendons? My cheeks burn--I know they're red.
I turn onto my side, I stare out the window, I watch the murky orange-pink of the streetlight far away, slightly blurred by the ***** glass.
My stress is tangible, emanating out of my body, filling the air with a cloud of decay, stifling me in my bed. I reach up and touch the ceiling, less than 2 feet above my head, feeling trapped, my temples are a newly tumble-dried button-down shirt firmly pressed under an iron. I'm aching, and it's all my fault.
My dreams have been wispy, morning haze, almost indistinguishable from real life. Reminders.
Nov 16, 2012
Nov 16, 2012 at 2:02 PM UTC
Who is this? This melancholy, lusterless, sad-eyed girl?
Sitting there, in an anguished silence, only hollowly responsive
Perplexed and dismayed by the qualms this life has rapidly unfurled
A heartbroken, lonely ghost of a woman, stripped of all treasures she wished to give
Who is to blame? Who forced her to board that otherwise lifeless train?
When it reaches its final stop (the end of the line...) fault shall be hung on what sorry name?
As this girl steps out on to the platform, destination-less, cold and soggy in the rain
To whom might she raise her finger, pointing out the wretched being who first began this ****** game?
What if an ugly truth, her answer, is a monster, too hideous to stand and face?
Might she recognize the feet that carried her, each of the steps past, leading to present grounds?
Or perhaps she'll cling to denials, fearing her sins too heavy to be lifted through grace
And regardless, what of hopes, acceptance and loves still hiding? For this girl, could they yet be found?
I watch while she sits, waiting vainly for some resolution; her guiding light to come take her away
Of my presence she seems unaware, and I've seen her eyes fill up behind a quiet blink, then spill
In those moments, I cry as well, and beg of God to take the chains from her soul, let her lovely spirit again play
Left to hold her own reigns of mercy and faith, her hands will create the misery-rope she'll eventually be hanged with and killed...
We are the same, but divided ourselves; split into two fractured pieces of one broken whole
I've held on, held out for her, yet she's all but forgotten me
And I'll never let go, because that tormented, splintered heart inside of her is a piece of me that she stole
So I'll pray, plead, console, call out to her, for without her acknowledgement of herself, we'll never be one again; we will never be free
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 9:19 AM UTC
and when I listen to
that song
I remember two am
distressed and alone
staring at the blackness
outside my window
piano keys echoing hollowly
throughout the
dimly lit room
man of a thousand faces
she sings
I have a thousand faces too
for a thousand different people
each one emerging
depending on who you are
I cry about those things too
smiles at the moon like he knows her
she sings
how many people
are companions with the moon
how many of us
alone
frightened people
converse with a celestial sphere
night to night
are you scared too
I ask
do you understand
I feel so alone
I whisper to my empty room
hello
can you see me as I see you
what of the twinkling stars
do you love me
as I love you
how many people
addicts insomniacs and brokenhearted
have loved you
moon
I believe everyone
has long forgotten
true sanity
come stay awake with
me
feel as I feel
can you
at one
two
three
four am
stay with me
please
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 10:03 PM UTC
stop.
and remember the way the world was –
when the weightless wonder of clouds
was magic beyond your ken.
when fireworks were tiny exploding suns
pure fey fire from across the night sky.
when hope was a kite string in your hand
thirsty for the stirring of a soaring wind.
when love was more than this ache
smoldering hollowly and unanswered in us all.
May 18, 2011
May 18, 2011 at 5:48 PM UTC
words resound hollowly
naught but shells of meaning
whole but only in appearance
a feather-weight mat
covering a fathomless pit
empty cold and dark
Sep 13, 2011
Sep 13, 2011 at 4:41 PM UTC
Intertwining boughs
Arch high above
Shading this desolate road.
I walk a solitary path.
Roaming lost in thought
Unaware of the deepening night
Beneath these shadowy limbs.
Owls wake slowly as dusk passes to night.
Wolves catch the scent of prey on the wind.
Whispering hollowly through the trees it
Shares the news of fell deeds done this night
And I alone on this long and lonely road
Feel the danger present in every direction.
Yet, so lost in thought am I,
Unaware of approaching predators.
Until a deep sense of dread
permeates my very soul.
I hear pounding hooves on packed soil
and hurl myself into the clutches of the trees.
I listen as the ******** who would have my head
Continue their flight from the horrid deeds they perpetrated.
Lost and frightened, I stay as I fell,
then exhausted, I sleep,
covered by the brush that clawed at my clothing,
Only to wake in my love's strong arms
As his tears rain upon me at the sweet break of dawn.
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 11:31 PM UTC
Ragged breathing turns into rhythm
A slice of the flickering light
A tender soul in a weak body in spasm
A convulsing loved one fighting with all his might
Yet you stand there in the corner
****** faced and cold, unwavering
Your face a blank canvas for the painter
A silhouette of sorrow never lingering
You look hollowly into empty eyes
The same emptiness reflecting the vanished life
The same emptiness holding in your cries
The same emptiness keeping you wrapped like a vine
Yet you stand there in the corner
With the repetition doing it all over
Loved ones passing by one by one
Until you of all people have no one
Yet here you are, standing by the bed side
An insistent tear in your cheek glides down
Dropping into the forehead of the one who died
Sobs at bay so you won't feel down
Yet here you are, agonizing in pain and misery
Facing Life's one final mystery
A moment where you face the greatest fear of everybody
By the bed side of a dying one you'll see
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 2:27 AM UTC
this sound
gears, they grind
it speaks to me
a communication unseen
screaming
of metal together
"work!" they scream,
work
looking
to these gears once more
locked in place
bound by some normality
the rusty screams
somehow clean-cut
like a knife
sliced open
subconscious--
it leaks out
the ****
shattered
in seamless now
the seamless that's smooth
the seamless that's the same
endlessly
the substitution
the understudy
ran out of living
we turned to working
to **** us
so hollowly
until we harden up
and rust over
grinding away
quietly working
(quietly screaming)
forgetfully crying
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 3:59 PM UTC
I see the house, Im here to stay .
Nobody to hold my hand, nobody to protect me if they try to-
take me over.
Im so scared Im shaking.
I open the door and I pass into the hall.
Where my mother comes up.
She makes me feel so small.
She is screaming, raging mad.
And dad is drunk, he ain´t doing nothing about that.
She raises her hand about to hit me,
then she disappears.
Throughout this experience I've been shaking violently,
I stopped breathing or breathing extremely hollowly,
could feel a sense of cold washing through my body,
and all I want to do is fall down sobbing.
Im not yet ready to pass through,
I need help, because of you.
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 12:31 AM UTC
I am the conduit
When feelings hit, they strike deep
Like lightning, unfathomable strength More fleeting than the jaded moments
It comes to fade like shallow breaths
But the scars remain
Reminding me of a forever, lost
Misspelled shadows
A creeping psalm of hope
I am the line crossed
I am the light lost
I am the entity that can't be found
Scorned by solemn apathy
I become the withered and unbound
Ransom unjust fate
Just to feel okay by yourself
You are the silence I seek
Courageous and unfettered by longing
My love seethes in empty corridors
Wandering past each frame of mind
Doorways leading to crippled lines
Threads unjust, no beginning or end
This woven featurette is yours to weep
Watch me dance hollowly on screen
Stepping over each piece of glass
Like the ghostly waltz of yesteryear
Find me there, underneath the crown of hate
I am the conduit
I am the fateless misery you strive to hate
Strike me down, fell my cause
Bring me to my knees
Misery seems to be my favorite mistake
The taste of your lips a listless waste
Jan 21, 2021
Jan 21, 2021 at 5:01 PM UTC
A white dress
Floating across the nightly forest
Her half-closed eyes
Hollowly gazing through the trees
Into the distance.
The moon was reflecting
Her beautiful yet enticing physique
Her lips were chanting
Something unclear.
As she flew
Wandering the nightly forest
The sky chose to cry
And she hummed the azure to sleep
Her voice, melancholic
And perplexing.
A ghastly mist
Took place
As the dawn rise
And the enigmatic white dress
Vanishes from sight.
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 4:07 AM UTC
Hollow out a pumpkin
Hollow out my soul
Scoop out the insides of a pumpkin
Scoop out the inside of my soul
Thin ice covers my body
Thin ice covers my soul
Outside of myself
Outside of my soul
Cavities, devoid of truth
Sunken, reverberating footsteps
Echo hollowly
Emptiness, devoid of even emotion
A void between hollow valleys
Spacious sepulchral sound
Deeply indented
In my hollow soul.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
Empty eyes
Scan the room
For a solvent
To dissolve
The boarding sadness
Feeling at home in my truth
Hiding behind honest lips
Despair coats
My throat
Tricking me into believing
That it’s going down
Like water
Voices chanting
In bonds
Made by weakened spirits
*Shot
Shot
Shot,*
I take.
*Chuuug
Guuulp
Sluuug,*
I fade.
Eyes wander,
Looking in my skull,
For a brain
Before Answering
a knock
at my lips
*Peck
Peck
Smooch.*
The blur
Drags us
Away
My eyes
Disillusioned with romance
Scan the room
Hollowly thankful
No one heard my
Signal
Wondering
If he can taste
How raw
My voice has become.
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 7:02 PM UTC