"houls" poems - Hello Poetry

watching in amazement dumbfounded and oooh, the wonder of a cold chill shivers.. upon my spine down every bone changing my tone from wonder confused to highly amused the gears turn so slight just past twilight the growl, houls.. of my midnight swoon. watching with the intent seemingly full of ideas... just whisper what you like you'll see the kitten come out tonight. little purrs light loving scratches watching the toes curl eyes roll back and close all of your triggers to suddenly... STOP. end of line, the thought of you on my mind as a pair, the air heats and cools and the moisture condenses thrown off feeling sky high or a few miles in flight realizing that hearing the birds outside.. we're up all night playing online.

0

May 19, 2012

May 19, 2012 at 12:10 AM UTC

aprilhapnerabbott

Midnight Swoon

watching in amazement dumbfounded and oooh, the wonder of a cold chill shivers.. upon my spine down every bone changing my tone from wonder confused to highly amused the gears turn so slight just past twilight the growl, houls.. of my midnight swoon. watching with the intent seemingly full of ideas... just whisper what you like you'll see the kitten come out tonight. little purrs light loving scratches watching the toes curl eyes roll back and close all of your triggers to suddenly... STOP. end of line, the thought of you on my mind as a pair, the air heats and cools and the moisture condenses thrown off feeling sky high or a few miles in flight realizing that hearing the birds outside.. we're up all night playing online.

36

still-- like open wings, unfluttered delicate, simple, elegant similar to security, unfaithful motionless.... what would you think? if the world at this time froze like the rose petals that curl and turn black fall towards a never-ended hole of despair cold, dark, light, feverish shades of reddened flair to hear one's own houls, never once. called out useless, Still.

0

Apr 6, 2012

Apr 6, 2012 at 11:47 PM UTC

aprilhapnerabbott

Still

still-- like open wings, unfluttered delicate, simple, elegant similar to security, unfaithful motionless.... what would you think? if the world at this time froze like the rose petals that curl and turn black fall towards a never-ended hole of despair cold, dark, light, feverish shades of reddened flair to hear one's own houls, never once. called out useless, Still.

16

The ancient gods have awaken, They thirst for a drink of unimaginable power of wisdom... Joy... Terror... Suffering... IMMORTALITY... Two chalices sit beside my throne. On of pure gold from mighty mines. Its called The wealth of gods embeded rubys and emeralds... broken colorful light bounces from the chalice and fills half of the room, Slow glimmering blood drops of gods fall into it. Everytime a drop hits the surface, A blinding light strikes my eyes, it releases a powerful magic And people of pure heart gather around and dwelve on its power and wisdom, yet dare not touch it. One made of the darkest obsidian, It's name lost long ago. Infused with purest kind of horrors Hearts of the giant crows bleed in it, The darkness grows stronger and never seizes to have a closure. Around the dark all foul creatures gather, Their houls would not stop, They terrify the living, No iternal rest for them. In the middle I rest, I will never get possesed. I wont sleep as the gods fancy their drink. And i must bring it to them as my punishment from gods themselves, because i serve the Dark Lord. I enjoy their divinity... Their wisdom... And power... Around my neck a heavy chain dangles, On it's very tip a marble key, It's my everything. The key of destiny. My dry boney fingers try to clasp it, But its too far, Destiny of the souls, They are piling on me, I cant shake them. They are unstoppable. Black wings on my back, They feel like stone cold... hard and heavy, One swing and this doom is perished, But i can not move them. They are embeded onto my throne, They will swing one more time. My knuckless are bronze, My feet goldish feathers, My chest of platinum, My blade from pure iron, Thirsty for some red, red blood. You can not defeat me. Though I'm still weak, Servants of god are powerful. Once i fought for good, I was a blood thirsty warrior, A thing of myths and legends. I had an old relic of power, It kept me on the side of gods, Yet evil always wins. It took over me like a black cloud. My soul darkened with every swing i took. The mirror of fate was broken. Now I am immortal and a heavy burden lies on my shoulders. Evil always wins.

0

May 3, 2017

May 3, 2017 at 6:42 AM UTC

u690174

THE DRINK OF GODS AND ME

The ancient gods have awaken, They thirst for a drink of unimaginable power of wisdom... Joy... Terror... Suffering... IMMORTALITY... Two chalices sit beside my throne. On of pure gold from mighty mines. Its called The wealth of gods embeded rubys and emeralds... broken colorful light bounces from the chalice and fills half of the room, Slow glimmering blood drops of gods fall into it. Everytime a drop hits the surface, A blinding light strikes my eyes, it releases a powerful magic And people of pure heart gather around and dwelve on its power and wisdom, yet dare not touch it. One made of the darkest obsidian, It's name lost long ago. Infused with purest kind of horrors Hearts of the giant crows bleed in it, The darkness grows stronger and never seizes to have a closure. Around the dark all foul creatures gather, Their houls would not stop, They terrify the living, No iternal rest for them. In the middle I rest, I will never get possesed. I wont sleep as the gods fancy their drink. And i must bring it to them as my punishment from gods themselves, because i serve the Dark Lord. I enjoy their divinity... Their wisdom... And power... Around my neck a heavy chain dangles, On it's very tip a marble key, It's my everything. The key of destiny. My dry boney fingers try to clasp it, But its too far, Destiny of the souls, They are piling on me, I cant shake them. They are unstoppable. Black wings on my back, They feel like stone cold... hard and heavy, One swing and this doom is perished, But i can not move them. They are embeded onto my throne, They will swing one more time. My knuckless are bronze, My feet goldish feathers, My chest of platinum, My blade from pure iron, Thirsty for some red, red blood. You can not defeat me. Though I'm still weak, Servants of god are powerful. Once i fought for good, I was a blood thirsty warrior, A thing of myths and legends. I had an old relic of power, It kept me on the side of gods, Yet evil always wins. It took over me like a black cloud. My soul darkened with every swing i took. The mirror of fate was broken. Now I am immortal and a heavy burden lies on my shoulders. Evil always wins.

68

My three daughters and I Spot, Blue and sweet Timex, live within the walls of this Verona like apartment, Missy, the Black Lab who played nursemaid to these three I believe, aided and abetted sweet Timex's foray. I, a Capulet, truly love my daughters but easily fly into rages, wishing a fair and providing man for them, not the hell of the Montague clan, namely bighead. Bighead roams the streets the alleys the back woods no earnings or propriety, no means to his unmatted fur, his wild houls in the night, testament. The nurse then, on a late night, asked to go out. I tired, got complacent and out timex flied! She returned a week later, not the young kitten, playful, but a Cat, with hunger in her eyes. Spot and Blue, still are eager to discover the outsides, Probably filled in on all that is there, by Timex. And she no longer plays. She even meows different now, seems to meow O Bighead, wherefore art thou Bighead!

0

Apr 7, 2017

Apr 7, 2017 at 9:38 PM UTC

wordvango

Four legged Romeo

My three daughters and I Spot, Blue and sweet Timex, live within the walls of this Verona like apartment, Missy, the Black Lab who played nursemaid to these three I believe, aided and abetted sweet Timex's foray. I, a Capulet, truly love my daughters but easily fly into rages, wishing a fair and providing man for them, not the hell of the Montague clan, namely bighead. Bighead roams the streets the alleys the back woods no earnings or propriety, no means to his unmatted fur, his wild houls in the night, testament. The nurse then, on a late night, asked to go out. I tired, got complacent and out timex flied! She returned a week later, not the young kitten, playful, but a Cat, with hunger in her eyes. Spot and Blue, still are eager to discover the outsides, Probably filled in on all that is there, by Timex. And she no longer plays. She even meows different now, seems to meow O Bighead, wherefore art thou Bighead!

26