"hous" poems - Hello Poetry

How word conveys thine yonder form is winter’s ice upon my ear, No mouth can so describe the warmth lay hous’d inside my heart endeared. Despite all speech that one might find, though vastly far it always spans, your essence will lay undefined, far beyond all ink-spotted hands. But here I stay ever toiling, grasping my pen yet unprepared, Cursive paper onward coiling, My crumpled sheets lay uncompared. So know my love you’re all to me beyond that which our words can see.

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Feb 25, 2014

Feb 25, 2014 at 8:36 PM UTC

benjamin-adams

Undefined (A Sonnet in 8 Syllable Lines)

How word conveys thine yonder form is winter’s ice upon my ear, No mouth can so describe the warmth lay hous’d inside my heart endeared. Despite all speech that one might find, though vastly far it always spans, your essence will lay undefined, far beyond all ink-spotted hands. But here I stay ever toiling, grasping my pen yet unprepared, Cursive paper onward coiling, My crumpled sheets lay uncompared. So know my love you’re all to me beyond that which our words can see.

14

Look, at that cup of coffee Standing there Without the fear of getting cold The sun heats it up before a singel degree Even starts to think about leaving Look, look at that mountain Standing there Stronger than any hous or tree Never like the ice afraid of breaking down Look, look at time Always moving forward Giving people hard times Never letting them have a single second back Look, look at that kindergarten teacher Teaching kids things he knows Things he knows that he knows Never afraid to be outsmarted Look, look at that child pretending better than anybody else Turning nothing into play Degrees into creatures Mountains into needed friends Time into the the enemy And the teachers into outdated non fiction Because she knows Fiction is her home.

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Feb 28, 2016

Feb 28, 2016 at 5:50 PM UTC

emil-hernried

Look at her

Look, at that cup of coffee Standing there Without the fear of getting cold The sun heats it up before a singel degree Even starts to think about leaving Look, look at that mountain Standing there Stronger than any hous or tree Never like the ice afraid of breaking down Look, look at time Always moving forward Giving people hard times Never letting them have a single second back Look, look at that kindergarten teacher Teaching kids things he knows Things he knows that he knows Never afraid to be outsmarted Look, look at that child pretending better than anybody else Turning nothing into play Degrees into creatures Mountains into needed friends Time into the the enemy And the teachers into outdated non fiction Because she knows Fiction is her home.

26

Sneeeky snek Out for mous Sneeky snek In le hous He slithery slither And then he starts wither Into dust "I don't feel so good, Mr. Stark" whoosh *

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Apr 16, 2019

Apr 16, 2019 at 8:08 AM UTC