"incautious" poems - Hello Poetry

327 Before I got my eye put out I liked as well to see— As other Creatures, that have Eyes And know no other way— But were it told to me—Today— That I might have the sky For mine—I tell you that my Heart Would split, for size of me— The Meadows—mine— The Mountains—mine— All Forests—Stintless Stars— As much of Noon as I could take Between my finite eyes— The Motions of the Dipping Birds— The Morning’s Amber Road— For mine—to look at when I liked— The News would strike me dead— So safer—guess—with just my soul Upon the Window pane— Where other Creatures put their eyes— Incautious—of the Sun—

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Emily Dickinson

Before I got my eye put out

327 Before I got my eye put out I liked as well to see— As other Creatures, that have Eyes And know no other way— But were it told to me—Today— That I might have the sky For mine—I tell you that my Heart Would split, for size of me— The Meadows—mine— The Mountains—mine— All Forests—Stintless Stars— As much of Noon as I could take Between my finite eyes— The Motions of the Dipping Birds— The Morning’s Amber Road— For mine—to look at when I liked— The News would strike me dead— So safer—guess—with just my soul Upon the Window pane— Where other Creatures put their eyes— Incautious—of the Sun—

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I will never be the same again. But truly who ever was I? The foundation never formed, All there ever was – is mourning. Died then revived. Died and revived once again. Continuously digging myself up from the grave. A wraith amongst the dead, I cannot rest because I have never truly lived. Necromancy upon my soul, A constant yearning to finally be whole. A body covered in dirt and scars. Yet I am determined to make it beautiful. A heart full of spite, yet bursting with love. An incautious desire to one day be enough. I refuse to rest until I experience what real, safe human touch feels like. Place a hand upon my sulphuric body. I was once so afraid but now I am begging. Please take it away, please tell me I am not ***** I suppressed it all but now I'm overflowing. I care not who you are, please just love me. Lay me down amongst the green. Put all your limbs on top of me. Make imprints upon this rotten flesh, until I can finally feel clean. A body barren and hollow, A body that only knows shame. My bones are coated in it, Words spewing it, Tears pouring with it. All I am is shame. She used to smile so innocently when she was young. With a laugh like a howling winds great bellow. She would fantasise about her first love, I let her down. Now I am screaming, snarling, spitting. Resenting a world that I was foolish to trust. Drive a stake through my heart, I ask of you to wish me peaceful rest. Hopefully this time I will not rise again. Banished.

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Jun 7, 2023

Jun 7, 2023 at 4:43 PM UTC

NoonWraith

Wraith

I will never be the same again. But truly who ever was I? The foundation never formed, All there ever was – is mourning. Died then revived. Died and revived once again. Continuously digging myself up from the grave. A wraith amongst the dead, I cannot rest because I have never truly lived. Necromancy upon my soul, A constant yearning to finally be whole. A body covered in dirt and scars. Yet I am determined to make it beautiful. A heart full of spite, yet bursting with love. An incautious desire to one day be enough. I refuse to rest until I experience what real, safe human touch feels like. Place a hand upon my sulphuric body. I was once so afraid but now I am begging. Please take it away, please tell me I am not ***** I suppressed it all but now I'm overflowing. I care not who you are, please just love me. Lay me down amongst the green. Put all your limbs on top of me. Make imprints upon this rotten flesh, until I can finally feel clean. A body barren and hollow, A body that only knows shame. My bones are coated in it, Words spewing it, Tears pouring with it. All I am is shame. She used to smile so innocently when she was young. With a laugh like a howling winds great bellow. She would fantasise about her first love, I let her down. Now I am screaming, snarling, spitting. Resenting a world that I was foolish to trust. Drive a stake through my heart, I ask of you to wish me peaceful rest. Hopefully this time I will not rise again. Banished.

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Hail the hero’s, too few many Hail the boy who strikes a blow, Hail the one who sticks his neck out Risking life for nought to show. Countermand the armed offender Sheild the maiden’s breast from knife, Bare the heart for chance to take This brave young soul’s incautious life. Blow the trumpet’s scarlet fanfare Wave the flags for all to see Heroism’s rare exposure... Praise this man for what he be! Marshalg Victoria Park Tunnel 11 January 2011

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Jan 10, 2011

Jan 10, 2011 at 3:03 PM UTC

marshal-gebbie

Hail the Hero!

Hail the hero’s, too few many Hail the boy who strikes a blow, Hail the one who sticks his neck out Risking life for nought to show. Countermand the armed offender Sheild the maiden’s breast from knife, Bare the heart for chance to take This brave young soul’s incautious life. Blow the trumpet’s scarlet fanfare Wave the flags for all to see Heroism’s rare exposure... Praise this man for what he be! Marshalg Victoria Park Tunnel 11 January 2011

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the vivisectionist comes to call when I am separated from you his palsied incautious hands removing the hours from my body one at a time dragging his dull rusted scalpel across my psyche in his leaden deliberate pace whistling tunelessly monotonously in my ear he will have no truck with anesthetic I am bathed in the sanguine gore of his butchery which others mistake for sadness

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Apr 14, 2019

Apr 14, 2019 at 7:37 PM UTC

crow

Abscission

the vivisectionist comes to call when I am separated from you his palsied incautious hands removing the hours from my body one at a time dragging his dull rusted scalpel across my psyche in his leaden deliberate pace whistling tunelessly monotonously in my ear he will have no truck with anesthetic I am bathed in the sanguine gore of his butchery which others mistake for sadness

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The suns rays hit your eyes. Creatures staring in and the heartless staring out. Incautious of the blinding sun. Oblivion, Oh we meet again. Deeper and darker we go, into oblivion. I feel dark blue as memories mesh and horrors unfold, Right before my very eyes. Blue, blue tides. So many emotions floating around within my inner conscience. Blue being the color you see Before your lungs collapse, And your eyes roll into the back of your skull. Injustice to the best of us as we are wither away in inescapable oblivion.

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Apr 12, 2016

Apr 12, 2016 at 1:27 AM UTC

riley-smith

Oblivion.

The suns rays hit your eyes. Creatures staring in and the heartless staring out. Incautious of the blinding sun. Oblivion, Oh we meet again. Deeper and darker we go, into oblivion. I feel dark blue as memories mesh and horrors unfold, Right before my very eyes. Blue, blue tides. So many emotions floating around within my inner conscience. Blue being the color you see Before your lungs collapse, And your eyes roll into the back of your skull. Injustice to the best of us as we are wither away in inescapable oblivion.

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For Marshall Gebbie *in June, with sun dispatched to somewhere else, a steaming mug, adds to the clouds of gloom but, dissipates the summer chill, that seems colder than its winter chill counterpart, since it is contraindicated, here, where, it’s summer and everybody’s inside, hiding, for all the irrational reasons, the news, reports so earnestly you send me a poem of incautious beauty, of a moment re-warmed, desire, recalled, rekindling a past so well remembered that it edges me off that chill, and I wonder how timing is in always everything, the rear view mirror concept somehow a predictive tool, cause we never saw it all, but just right, plenty enough, and when old men muse, the risk of self- ruse is always lurking about remembering how it was, how we wanted it to be, how we’re sure that we too were there, or at least near, almost certainly, was it a thousand poems ago, or B.P, (before poetry), when actions were louder, preferable to words, life, charging neurons, by the billions, so we have those storages, celled memories, so that the poems of then, come back so easily, framed in our memory,* in the glorious, stunning heated colorings of pleasure June 5, 2:35pm Shelter Island

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Jun 5, 2020

Jun 5, 2020 at 4:35 PM UTC

nat-lipstadt

For Marshall Gebbie (Stunning)

For Marshall Gebbie *in June, with sun dispatched to somewhere else, a steaming mug, adds to the clouds of gloom but, dissipates the summer chill, that seems colder than its winter chill counterpart, since it is contraindicated, here, where, it’s summer and everybody’s inside, hiding, for all the irrational reasons, the news, reports so earnestly you send me a poem of incautious beauty, of a moment re-warmed, desire, recalled, rekindling a past so well remembered that it edges me off that chill, and I wonder how timing is in always everything, the rear view mirror concept somehow a predictive tool, cause we never saw it all, but just right, plenty enough, and when old men muse, the risk of self- ruse is always lurking about remembering how it was, how we wanted it to be, how we’re sure that we too were there, or at least near, almost certainly, was it a thousand poems ago, or B.P, (before poetry), when actions were louder, preferable to words, life, charging neurons, by the billions, so we have those storages, celled memories, so that the poems of then, come back so easily, framed in our memory,* in the glorious, stunning heated colorings of pleasure June 5, 2:35pm Shelter Island

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he glowing, burning; she, aloof, satirical; he, bound for adventure; she, mored to the shore; he, launched, incautious; she, solitary, left out - and, ready to implore a share, his disaster,

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May 25, 2015

May 25, 2015 at 10:34 AM UTC

medicine

She

he glowing, burning; she, aloof, satirical; he, bound for adventure; she, mored to the shore; he, launched, incautious; she, solitary, left out - and, ready to implore a share, his disaster,

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I'm glad it was her not you tonight. I am sure the speaking of literature and film would have gone differently if it had been you in my space. Looking at my things and analyzing my habits making assessments of my mannerisms. If it had been you, I'm sure I may have done something incautious and perhaps callous, the kind of thing you come from dreams saying perhaps the invitation should have been lost on maybes and could have beens. I suppose it's unkind to think, If one or the other just did not exist it would make this plight much different not better just different.

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Jan 12, 2014

Jan 12, 2014 at 12:40 AM UTC

sapsorrow

Last night with her.

I'm glad it was her not you tonight. I am sure the speaking of literature and film would have gone differently if it had been you in my space. Looking at my things and analyzing my habits making assessments of my mannerisms. If it had been you, I'm sure I may have done something incautious and perhaps callous, the kind of thing you come from dreams saying perhaps the invitation should have been lost on maybes and could have beens. I suppose it's unkind to think, If one or the other just did not exist it would make this plight much different not better just different.

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*Do you hear me? Come closer Let the wind whisper something, Something mournful* I'm paralyzed, But I can still breathe and blink "What do you see?" Gleam, just light The heat of the bullet, The warmth in my head The pain in my heart Why it feels like frigid? Am I holding something? I can't remember anything Few minutes left *Do you hear me? Come closer I have something to say* It's a part of my bucket list, Yet I'm afraid anyway More than death or quietus *Let the wind whisper something, Something ballistic* I'm tired, But still I want to fight "What do you want?" Calmness, Love and Silence I want to sleep Let my blood be the design, To my unpainted affection Before I accept my incautious decision Few seconds left *Do you still hear me? Come closer please If the wind blows harder, I want you to know that I'm shouting something Something surreptitious* Get my gun out off my hand Then get me a good pillow and a neat blanket "What do you want to say?" Goodnight my lo...

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Mar 13, 2015

Mar 13, 2015 at 2:43 AM UTC

alex-cross

Obscured Goodbye

*Do you hear me? Come closer Let the wind whisper something, Something mournful* I'm paralyzed, But I can still breathe and blink "What do you see?" Gleam, just light The heat of the bullet, The warmth in my head The pain in my heart Why it feels like frigid? Am I holding something? I can't remember anything Few minutes left *Do you hear me? Come closer I have something to say* It's a part of my bucket list, Yet I'm afraid anyway More than death or quietus *Let the wind whisper something, Something ballistic* I'm tired, But still I want to fight "What do you want?" Calmness, Love and Silence I want to sleep Let my blood be the design, To my unpainted affection Before I accept my incautious decision Few seconds left *Do you still hear me? Come closer please If the wind blows harder, I want you to know that I'm shouting something Something surreptitious* Get my gun out off my hand Then get me a good pillow and a neat blanket "What do you want to say?" Goodnight my lo...

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I brought myself to this horrendous decade Darkness all over the esplanade Nothing heard, I hear nothing said Apart from the terror with which I’m being fed Shakingly,tears running,I have committed internal homicide My soul destroyed, again it needs to be purified Disturbia, Its simple,its the disease in my mind Disturbia, My faith lost,left for me to find Disturbia, Scared to my bones,what might occur? No time for me to rewind My whole life in my hands ruined All my decisions incautious,my doing Hunting me is my disturbia ,my feeling of rueing By its hands of evil,yes i have been varied My superiors guidance forgotten, buried I fear for me,I am greatly worried Disturbia, The chaos,my creation, i cant escape Disturbia, My perfect world crushed, now i have to scrape Disturbia, Undefined torture in its unbearable state When shall i awake from this nightmare The series of darkness all around me, truely near I’m searching for thee to make my life illuminate Out of havoc so purity can accentuate My reality gradually has become a travia But now its time , departure for me is the end of my disturbia.

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Feb 16, 2018

Feb 16, 2018 at 7:37 AM UTC

Naana

Disturbia

I brought myself to this horrendous decade Darkness all over the esplanade Nothing heard, I hear nothing said Apart from the terror with which I’m being fed Shakingly,tears running,I have committed internal homicide My soul destroyed, again it needs to be purified Disturbia, Its simple,its the disease in my mind Disturbia, My faith lost,left for me to find Disturbia, Scared to my bones,what might occur? No time for me to rewind My whole life in my hands ruined All my decisions incautious,my doing Hunting me is my disturbia ,my feeling of rueing By its hands of evil,yes i have been varied My superiors guidance forgotten, buried I fear for me,I am greatly worried Disturbia, The chaos,my creation, i cant escape Disturbia, My perfect world crushed, now i have to scrape Disturbia, Undefined torture in its unbearable state When shall i awake from this nightmare The series of darkness all around me, truely near I’m searching for thee to make my life illuminate Out of havoc so purity can accentuate My reality gradually has become a travia But now its time , departure for me is the end of my disturbia.

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