"impounding" poems - Hello Poetry

Susan with her china-white skin relaxed down to lace bra and ******* “Have you ever heard this?” she asks … sets the album, drops the needle in the groove We wait till bass fills in the room sending time and silence empty-handed down a hallway Susan lights a joint settles on the bed ample legs begging apart She ***** in deeply impounding clouds Head thrown back Thick glossy hair— loses gravity Eyes half-closed, shadow-heavy clear and blue like piano The walls are muted trumpet stutter-hush of cymbal and the snare Crackling over scratches We are barely there Susan exhales a swirl of fog to a frail moon Only her sultry voice still holds me tethered “Have you ever heard anything— like this?” Miles flows around me Smoking On the floor of Susan’s room lying clothed and drunk Soaked with chords and wonder I never hear him coming Miles takes his time

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Nov 25, 2016

Nov 25, 2016 at 12:22 PM UTC

elizabeth-balise

Jazz ******

Susan with her china-white skin relaxed down to lace bra and ******* “Have you ever heard this?” she asks … sets the album, drops the needle in the groove We wait till bass fills in the room sending time and silence empty-handed down a hallway Susan lights a joint settles on the bed ample legs begging apart She ***** in deeply impounding clouds Head thrown back Thick glossy hair— loses gravity Eyes half-closed, shadow-heavy clear and blue like piano The walls are muted trumpet stutter-hush of cymbal and the snare Crackling over scratches We are barely there Susan exhales a swirl of fog to a frail moon Only her sultry voice still holds me tethered “Have you ever heard anything— like this?” Miles flows around me Smoking On the floor of Susan’s room lying clothed and drunk Soaked with chords and wonder I never hear him coming Miles takes his time

37

The doctor of Geneva stamped the sand That lay impounding the Pacific swell, Patted his stove-pipe hat and tugged his shawl. Lacustrine man had never been assailed By such long-rolling opulent cataracts, Unless Racine or Bossuet held the like. He did not quail. A man who used to plumb The multifarious heavens felt no awe Before these visible, voluble delugings, Which yet found means to set his simmering mind Spinning and hissing with oracular Notations of the wild, the ruinous waste, Until the steeples of his city clanked and sprang In an unburgherly apocalypse. The doctor used his handkerchief and sighed.

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3k

Wallace Stevens

The Doctor Of Geneva

The doctor of Geneva stamped the sand That lay impounding the Pacific swell, Patted his stove-pipe hat and tugged his shawl. Lacustrine man had never been assailed By such long-rolling opulent cataracts, Unless Racine or Bossuet held the like. He did not quail. A man who used to plumb The multifarious heavens felt no awe Before these visible, voluble delugings, Which yet found means to set his simmering mind Spinning and hissing with oracular Notations of the wild, the ruinous waste, Until the steeples of his city clanked and sprang In an unburgherly apocalypse. The doctor used his handkerchief and sighed.

15

A cloud surrounds me. Suffocates. The lies, they feel so real they must be I can't see anything else anymore so Clearly, so they must be Everything I've forgotten, every scar that I had gotten, and the words, the stares, new knife-marks in my skin I know the Truth, but I can't always discern the lies. It only takes one, to get in, penetrating my skin. And downward, I spin. Into the darkness, the abyss. I can't get out Drowning The words and I think I'm the end of everyone's stares. It only takes one thing, to hear, and my mind runs wild. An inescapable spiraling of words and thoughts of self-loathing. It's a tangled web of heart-broken conditions, misintentions, these afflictions, did you know heartbreak is a diagnosable thing? It is. I decided. My heart was breaking. My heart is break ing. Tangled misintentions, a wave of self-doubting afflictions, all conditions of this mess we've woven. A web we've spun from our brokenness, and in the madness my minds screams, This is all your fault Never good enough Too much, or Too little You'll never be whole Broken beyond repair or care This is all your fault Time to leave Always say never Because you aren't fit for any Endeavor It's better if you leave You aren't good enough to believe Just go Never good enough The lies are so thick I can barely breathe Scars aren't really healed if you're still bleeding from the slashes. Cut hearts and, broken wrists. And none of it's true and part of me knows it, inside but the lies keep on coming and sometimes self-deprecation, feels good self-imposed asphyxiation, fills you up more than air in your lungs could Because pain is an addiction when we won't believe who we are. When I don't believe. I'm just creating more scars. And the lies wrap me up, suffocating in this web of misintention, but a moment of clarity reveals all these afflictions, I sense the darkness creeping in surrounding and impounding my heart. Drowning out the Truth, masking the lies, telling me I should believe I'm worthless. And the lies make sense I'm suffocating inside I cry out, inside my heart and my mind Tell me the Truth, I can't discern the lies. That infiltrate my soul, I've heard them so many thousands of times But the scars haven't healed and I'm still bleeding from the slashes I need a reason to sing, I need someone to bring me out before the swirling darkness settles in and poison takes over my veins. **** out the venom Or I'll die here alone And I cry to hear the Truth that overpowers the lies. I was alone in a claustrophobic cloud of hateful invention. And two hands reached in, grasped my shoulders, turned me round. Looked past my eyes and straight into my soul. Gentle and loving, I hear, I will fight past the lies to tell you the Truth. You're Mine

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Nov 15, 2013

Nov 15, 2013 at 1:28 AM UTC

katy-owens

To Heal Asphyxiation

A cloud surrounds me. Suffocates. The lies, they feel so real they must be I can't see anything else anymore so Clearly, so they must be Everything I've forgotten, every scar that I had gotten, and the words, the stares, new knife-marks in my skin I know the Truth, but I can't always discern the lies. It only takes one, to get in, penetrating my skin. And downward, I spin. Into the darkness, the abyss. I can't get out Drowning The words and I think I'm the end of everyone's stares. It only takes one thing, to hear, and my mind runs wild. An inescapable spiraling of words and thoughts of self-loathing. It's a tangled web of heart-broken conditions, misintentions, these afflictions, did you know heartbreak is a diagnosable thing? It is. I decided. My heart was breaking. My heart is break ing. Tangled misintentions, a wave of self-doubting afflictions, all conditions of this mess we've woven. A web we've spun from our brokenness, and in the madness my minds screams, This is all your fault Never good enough Too much, or Too little You'll never be whole Broken beyond repair or care This is all your fault Time to leave Always say never Because you aren't fit for any Endeavor It's better if you leave You aren't good enough to believe Just go Never good enough The lies are so thick I can barely breathe Scars aren't really healed if you're still bleeding from the slashes. Cut hearts and, broken wrists. And none of it's true and part of me knows it, inside but the lies keep on coming and sometimes self-deprecation, feels good self-imposed asphyxiation, fills you up more than air in your lungs could Because pain is an addiction when we won't believe who we are. When I don't believe. I'm just creating more scars. And the lies wrap me up, suffocating in this web of misintention, but a moment of clarity reveals all these afflictions, I sense the darkness creeping in surrounding and impounding my heart. Drowning out the Truth, masking the lies, telling me I should believe I'm worthless. And the lies make sense I'm suffocating inside I cry out, inside my heart and my mind Tell me the Truth, I can't discern the lies. That infiltrate my soul, I've heard them so many thousands of times But the scars haven't healed and I'm still bleeding from the slashes I need a reason to sing, I need someone to bring me out before the swirling darkness settles in and poison takes over my veins. **** out the venom Or I'll die here alone And I cry to hear the Truth that overpowers the lies. I was alone in a claustrophobic cloud of hateful invention. And two hands reached in, grasped my shoulders, turned me round. Looked past my eyes and straight into my soul. Gentle and loving, I hear, I will fight past the lies to tell you the Truth. You're Mine

63

I will not fall down down down Into that deep, impounding darkness. That sinking, violent pain that once consumed me. I am no longer a shadow of myself, A broken, sallow creature, lingering alone In the ashen wasteland of its everlasting night. I am not weak, I am not broken, I am not insignificant. I am infinite in Him.

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Jul 27, 2013

Jul 27, 2013 at 2:22 AM UTC

lillian-harris

Infinite

I will not fall down down down Into that deep, impounding darkness. That sinking, violent pain that once consumed me. I am no longer a shadow of myself, A broken, sallow creature, lingering alone In the ashen wasteland of its everlasting night. I am not weak, I am not broken, I am not insignificant. I am infinite in Him.

13

Energy games these days. Synergy claims. Learn to relay, signals Impounding on my ears. Listen closely my dear. It's all in here. There's just Nothing to fear. Tear fully, submit consciously, Celebrate the oath of life. Taste the flavors of the Earth. She is here for us. And all. And everything. Questioning may continue For a short time more. My desire to know for sure, Though will out soar, Will implode the weak, Low vibrations, Til they barely dim. Peace is within, the faithful Chant. I now sing this hymn My heart has the beat, And when I watch, My mind finds the keys, The steps, the recipe. Faith is only the beginning... I must be my best me. Perfection is reality, no need to strive. Standing up, Notice the toes on my feet, Just being me. As I have no other Choice. Releasing IDs, Sculpting energy, Creating,

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Apr 28, 2015

Apr 28, 2015 at 6:23 PM UTC

Seherseven

Relay

Energy games these days. Synergy claims. Learn to relay, signals Impounding on my ears. Listen closely my dear. It's all in here. There's just Nothing to fear. Tear fully, submit consciously, Celebrate the oath of life. Taste the flavors of the Earth. She is here for us. And all. And everything. Questioning may continue For a short time more. My desire to know for sure, Though will out soar, Will implode the weak, Low vibrations, Til they barely dim. Peace is within, the faithful Chant. I now sing this hymn My heart has the beat, And when I watch, My mind finds the keys, The steps, the recipe. Faith is only the beginning... I must be my best me. Perfection is reality, no need to strive. Standing up, Notice the toes on my feet, Just being me. As I have no other Choice. Releasing IDs, Sculpting energy, Creating,

33

Torrential spirituality Religion in the way that your lips meet my spine You are the connection that I used to have to the moon Milky, glazen sunshine You are the freckles in the glass of my great grandfather's telescope Sizzling electricity blooming from frayed power lines You are the anxious potential energy impounding my body

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Mar 28, 2014

Mar 28, 2014 at 10:28 AM UTC

kate-joy

You.

Torrential spirituality Religion in the way that your lips meet my spine You are the connection that I used to have to the moon Milky, glazen sunshine You are the freckles in the glass of my great grandfather's telescope Sizzling electricity blooming from frayed power lines You are the anxious potential energy impounding my body

7

Why...... " Why feelings and thoughts - of mine are unfeeble, And with an oft soulful cry! Never embroided in it's brinkmanship of A dwelling mirth !. often wondering of the days that gone by . Why being an unmindful 'Abu ben Adam ' often I embark on a distinct parody of bliss? Why my lips quiver,if destination is far cry. chasing my impounding fleet of wry smiles and daunting hopes to pursue, And for a few souls to succor !.

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Jun 24, 2016

Jun 24, 2016 at 2:07 AM UTC

ravindran-g

why ?

Why...... " Why feelings and thoughts - of mine are unfeeble, And with an oft soulful cry! Never embroided in it's brinkmanship of A dwelling mirth !. often wondering of the days that gone by . Why being an unmindful 'Abu ben Adam ' often I embark on a distinct parody of bliss? Why my lips quiver,if destination is far cry. chasing my impounding fleet of wry smiles and daunting hopes to pursue, And for a few souls to succor !.

13

Throats hoarsen with daggered insults A plea for control – A threat of death– A trust long frayed. One arm reaches for the other And uses it as a batting ram A steady. beat. Impounding on a vacuumed. chest. And when hours pass And scars are painted over She provides flesh on a porcelain platter– An apology for mistakes never made She stares blankly beneath the sheets And screams. But hoarse throats make no sound.

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Dec 13, 2018

Dec 13, 2018 at 12:48 PM UTC

nat-asha

Silent Night

Throats hoarsen with daggered insults A plea for control – A threat of death– A trust long frayed. One arm reaches for the other And uses it as a batting ram A steady. beat. Impounding on a vacuumed. chest. And when hours pass And scars are painted over She provides flesh on a porcelain platter– An apology for mistakes never made She stares blankly beneath the sheets And screams. But hoarse throats make no sound.

15

Flowers, flowers and more pretty flowers. That's all one ever thinks about Spring. What about Thorns, I ask? But no one seems to hear me. All they want to know about is the Rose. As the Spring I feel compressed, Obstructed by the Strain of the stretching length. Crushed by the load of impounding Stress. But, I am a Rose. My fragrance spreads joy to a billion others, But no one releases me from the Thorn that binds me. They're scared they say, And I don't blame them. For I beat myself to become this Rose. So I stand, as Spring does, Watched by a million eyes. I bounce when the Stress of Summer arrives, To live carefree another day. Only to realize I've trampled on the Thorn. The Thorn that Strains to cut the Rose away.

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May 31, 2018

May 31, 2018 at 10:20 AM UTC

BeatricePrior

Spring.

Flowers, flowers and more pretty flowers. That's all one ever thinks about Spring. What about Thorns, I ask? But no one seems to hear me. All they want to know about is the Rose. As the Spring I feel compressed, Obstructed by the Strain of the stretching length. Crushed by the load of impounding Stress. But, I am a Rose. My fragrance spreads joy to a billion others, But no one releases me from the Thorn that binds me. They're scared they say, And I don't blame them. For I beat myself to become this Rose. So I stand, as Spring does, Watched by a million eyes. I bounce when the Stress of Summer arrives, To live carefree another day. Only to realize I've trampled on the Thorn. The Thorn that Strains to cut the Rose away.

20