"jouster" poems - Hello Poetry

I hadn’t really known How objects could be emotions But this--this is an emotion like none other. This is the glass conductor of light Whose soft rays became symphonies Singing praise to Iris. She is the blood-red film Which cuts through the air alongside Streams flowing orange and violet And every color in between. Like a jouster She throws shards of rainbows Through each clouded pane. Their tranquil beauty is alive Breathing in the wind Teaching me that my lungs are a restriction. That my body is a metronome linked to the time Which will signal the stop of my ticking heart And I don’t know how many acts I have left to find my resolution. And though I cannot figure out How to even begin to comprehend just what that might be I know only that I do not want to depart this life As a mediocre play cut off mid-scene. I want the chance to write my own ending So that I can tie off the loose strings of my anxieties to balloons And let them lift the burden off of my shoulders. I want them to carry my depression along with it So when it rejoins natures tear ducts Which first brought it life, I can free myself from this prison Which made the atmosphere look like a gas chamber Trapped by the ever looming clouds. I saw more through opaque glass, than I ever saw in myself And so that stained glass window which showed me perspective Became a home for my restless thoughts.

0

Oct 26, 2014

Oct 26, 2014 at 10:58 PM UTC

bianca-cavender

Stained Glass State of Mind

I hadn’t really known How objects could be emotions But this--this is an emotion like none other. This is the glass conductor of light Whose soft rays became symphonies Singing praise to Iris. She is the blood-red film Which cuts through the air alongside Streams flowing orange and violet And every color in between. Like a jouster She throws shards of rainbows Through each clouded pane. Their tranquil beauty is alive Breathing in the wind Teaching me that my lungs are a restriction. That my body is a metronome linked to the time Which will signal the stop of my ticking heart And I don’t know how many acts I have left to find my resolution. And though I cannot figure out How to even begin to comprehend just what that might be I know only that I do not want to depart this life As a mediocre play cut off mid-scene. I want the chance to write my own ending So that I can tie off the loose strings of my anxieties to balloons And let them lift the burden off of my shoulders. I want them to carry my depression along with it So when it rejoins natures tear ducts Which first brought it life, I can free myself from this prison Which made the atmosphere look like a gas chamber Trapped by the ever looming clouds. I saw more through opaque glass, than I ever saw in myself And so that stained glass window which showed me perspective Became a home for my restless thoughts.

35

Hark! - mine hopes had loftily soared at your comely visage, young handmaiden, carrying the promise of much chivalry and banter upon eagles' wings of fortuity! What goodness the Lord hath seen fit to imbue on thy outer trappings most surely were indeed false, wherefore thee proved thyself a most unworthy jouster of conversation. Dost thee not ken that real world in which we live, rendering thy speech thus? But alas...thou dost not. Lo! - that only i could have understood what the **** you were saying...

0

Dec 17, 2013

Dec 17, 2013 at 12:14 AM UTC

derek-yohn

Renaissance Fair

Hark! - mine hopes had loftily soared at your comely visage, young handmaiden, carrying the promise of much chivalry and banter upon eagles' wings of fortuity! What goodness the Lord hath seen fit to imbue on thy outer trappings most surely were indeed false, wherefore thee proved thyself a most unworthy jouster of conversation. Dost thee not ken that real world in which we live, rendering thy speech thus? But alas...thou dost not. Lo! - that only i could have understood what the **** you were saying...

18

Brown in the sun of the midday born Silken strands of crested corn sparks light the sky brilliant welder's flash jewel in disguise jouster's winning prize. Jack was nimble he was quick but he's not taking that candlestick. All the queen's horses and all the queen's men run their own courses then run them again.

0

Apr 16, 2015

Apr 16, 2015 at 7:53 AM UTC

hellopoet

like hair flying in the wind

Brown in the sun of the midday born Silken strands of crested corn sparks light the sky brilliant welder's flash jewel in disguise jouster's winning prize. Jack was nimble he was quick but he's not taking that candlestick. All the queen's horses and all the queen's men run their own courses then run them again.

16