"lacuna" poems
I. TO DIONYSUS (21 lines) (1)
((LACUNA))
(ll. 1-9) For some say, at Dracanum; and some, on windy Icarus;
and some, in Naxos, O Heaven-born, Insewn (2); and others by the
deep-eddying river Alpheus that pregnant Semele bare you to Zeus
the thunder-lover. And others yet, lord, say you were born in
Thebes; but all these lie. The Father of men and gods gave you
birth remote from men and secretly from white-armed Hera. There
is a certain Nysa, a mountain most high and richly grown with
woods, far off in Phoenice, near the streams of Aegyptus.
((LACUNA))
(ll. 10-12) '...and men will lay up for her (3) many offerings in
her shrines. And as these things are three (4), so shall mortals
ever sacrifice perfect hecatombs to you at your feasts each three
years.'
(ll. 13-16) The Son of Cronos spoke and nodded with his dark
brows. And the divine locks of the king flowed forward from his
immortal head, and he made great Olympus reel. So spake wise
Zeus and ordained it with a nod.
(ll. 17-21) Be favourable, O Insewn, Inspirer of frenzied women!
we singers sing of you as we begin and as we end a strain, and
none forgetting you may call holy song to mind. And so,
farewell, Dionysus, Insewn, with your mother Semele whom men call
Thyone.
__________
The Homeric Hymns in the Hello Poetry collection are provided by:
Online Medieval and Classical Library.
Source site: http://omacl.org/Hesiod/hymns.html
4.2k
n. A homesickness for somewhere you cannot return to, the nostalgia and grief for the lost places of your past, places that never were.
insatiability makes its burrow
in my gall bladder,
wringing bile from the *****
craving toxins to purge.
i thirst for sweet lexical gaps,
holes in patterns,
dots that don't make shapes
but still gladly connect
komorebi
n. The sunlight that filters through the leaves of the trees
loveliest in the distinction
it is only komorebi
once filtered, green soul
bleeding through
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 4:58 PM UTC
*Have anthologized every
cerebration of mine,
finding myself snared in
dogmatic mysteries of cosmos.
My cognitive contents are
razing & vitiating,
leaving a brobdingnagian lacuna.
Striving to surmount it but,
incapable of sating the one that
domiciliates within
my èlan vital.*
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 12:01 PM UTC
our crescent moon floats in idle reverie
amidst its opal lagoon
in that lacuna before the day's first morning blush
while the fish hold their breath
and as she swims,
she illuminates the heiroglyphs scrawled on the sky
in the scumbled vapourtrails of hurried planes
soon to be dispersed
by the heavy breaths of snoring gods
but i just don't ******* care
moon, please let me sleep
Apr 23, 2022
Apr 23, 2022 at 2:05 AM UTC
maybe a black mouth
opening and closing
usually you can see the gums
the teeth
lips stretching over them
there’s nothing
a gaping entrance to the void
there are two stale muffins on the table
one soaking in milk
it’s been two hours now
the room at the top of the stairs
is growing louder and louder
a piercing bellow
drowning out all thoughts
but it doesn’t
i want to scream
throw myself into it until my entire being is lost
between the teeth
the white black lacuna
corn splitting from the cob
a rotting banana
an empty carton of milk
my god, could life be any more boring?
i caught a cold
sneezed at the floor
achoo achoo
get well soon cards at my funeral
loraclear on my casket
dirt over
grow me like a mushroom
expanding into the root systems
puffing into a bulbous fruit
pick me and slice me
but i trust only supermarket goods
picked by mechanised beings
******* on an industrial conveyor belt
modernity made physical
look into the slaughterpens while you eat your steak
barter your children for another shot of coffee
hah hah hah, doesn’t affect me
strutting your cash like an empty slot machine
rigged to emote only with your colleagues
while the television blares another thousand deaths
**** this ****** world
consume me until there’s nothing left
everyone’s a nihilist
someone brought back a dozen breadloaves from the women’s refuge
eat them before they go off
turning our bodies
pouring soap down the sink
all the fishes scales rot away
they slowly sink into the depths
and line the seabed with teeth and ribs
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 2:45 AM UTC
She, —
lace papillon
who sits motionless
behind the
glass.
Perched atop
lacuna wire,
ran through wings
handled by
gears.
I lift her glass
confinement
and
I touch her while
she's still. Clock-
work ballerina;
lifeless
until I wind
her up...
I let her
go on. "La danse!"
Create
steam halos
as you
twirl into
the night where
envious moths
tap the window
above
my bed.
------------------------
Papillon — French. Meaning "butterfly."
La danse — French. Meaning "The dance."
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 3:55 PM UTC
our story is that we met when we were young
and that we were introduced by a friend of a friend
and that we never thought we'd end up together
because you had her and I wasn't half as beautiful as her.
but my side of the story speaks that
from the moment I've seen you
months and months
before we even met,
I was sure I would fall in love with you.
even when I knew you had her
and she had you
and that no one can replace her in your heart,
I believed that time will bring us together;
that the lacuna inside me
will be filled with your love;
and I was right.
(i have never been that right)
your story is that you liked me from the start
and that you still like me.
my story is that I reserved my love for you
even before I knew your name
and that I would still reserve some for you
even now that we're done
just in case
just in case
you choose me again
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 5:24 AM UTC
How she moved so carelessly
when touched by the evening breeze
she sparkled like the light ***** in the night sky
however, I heard the anguish in her laugh
she consistently kissed me like it was her last kiss
danced as if it was her last dace
lived as if it was her last night
fascinated by everything
but I was only fascinated by her
how tiny her fingers were around her cigarette
how her bones looked like
they were about to leave her body
I never understood
But as she took off
Her bones became stardust
longing to get home
now I understand
that she never was supposed to be here with me
god had other plans for my angel
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 8:32 AM UTC
...Fallen on bended knees
upon sun-soaked soil of
lifeless rocks and dust
that feeds the fear
of a shattered
dream
Arid is the breath
a strength into the fading
torn by the wounds
Bleeding
...almost dry
Lady lacuna in the breeze
plays an aria
of an eerie silence
Emptiness
in each note
and nothing seems
to quench the thirst
as Man drains the
blood...
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 8:44 AM UTC
This day was fused with difficulty and a newer sun
The only note this night can end on, is a bad one
In the rush I fell further from life, poor fortune seemed impaled
The crude white's new and improved hypocrisy had been scaled
A restless heart burns beneath these bones with a trembling sigh
As I'm identified, it hits like vesta when these loaned emblems tie
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 8:06 PM UTC
No, that’s not how it goes.
Start again.
Do you remember the tree on the lake?
It was a forest.
No, it was black, like tar. It tasted like broken glass.
I remember the incense on the drapes.
Yes. It clung to our clothes.
You cried.
No, I smiled.
You cried smiling.
Yes.
I hate it when this happens.
What happens?
You know?
No.
Um. Sometimes it feels like the world is too crowded with words. Like it's too dense to speak.
That--
Like there’s something in the air that pushes against my throat.
There was a black dog, just then.
What?
Outside. It’s gone now. Sorry. Start again.
Do you remember the tree on the lake?
There was a raven.
Yes.
It was black like tar.
It caught a worm once.
Ravens don’t eat worms.
Yeah. It just sat there, with the worm in its beak. The worm squirmed, wrapping itself round the beak, over and over.
Is that why you were crying?
It wouldn’t stop. It kept going, digging its flesh deeper into the edges.
What was your father doing?
Smiling.
Why?
He’d filed for a divorce earlier.
Right. I wasn’t there.
No, you weren’t.
Do you regret locking the doors?
Sometimes I can taste the rain before it comes. It’s a skill I’ve had for as long as I can remember.
I’m lost. So your father was smiling?
No, he was crying.
Sorry. I swear I just--nevermind. Start again.
There was a storm in these parts when we were young. The worst storm in a hundred years.
I don’t remember.
You slept through it. I held your hand all night.
Why?
Because I was alone.
You still are.
Yes.
I hate it when this happens.
What happens?
You know?
Yes.
Where have you been?
Everywhere but here.
And where will you go?
Nowhere.
Sometimes when I look at you, it’s like looking through static. It’s like I’m looking at an impression of a person.
I get that a lot.
It’s like all my memories of you have blurred together. Vague feelings rise out of the haze. Feelings I recognise, yet cannot describe. I cannot connect them with who you are, what we were, or where we’ve been. It’s--
Like exiting a dream.
Yes. Exactly.
You feel a gap in your soul. One that has always been.
Always been. You held my hand, once.
During the worst storm in a hundred years.
When was that?
Every night.
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 9:37 AM UTC
You were always rotting
I never noticed
They remind me of you
Skin wrapped around ankle bones
Wearing through their soles
It’s different here
Guess some just rot faster
I peeled back the covers and found only the lacuna
The blue orange fuzz
Delineating the shadow from the concrete
You grew apart and dissipated
Smoke settling into cloth
The back of my sleeve
How come?
How come?
Everyone is always leaving
Warping through their bodies
Did you ever finish your story?
Soft knuckles rapping on your door
Knobbly knees
I know it’s selfish
Perpetuating the fabric of your existence
Like a categorical imperative
A crumpled head filled with spirits
Is carried to the tip
It happens every Monday morning
Hollow men run the streets
But they leave the rot
They always leave the rot
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC
I am the water that trickles down your throat
With each gulp you drink into me-I satiate
I am the air your lungs breathe in and out
Filling each breath only to be expelled consistently
I am the empty space between your blinks
The lacuna that widens your range of sight
I am the sun that beats down on your
coat
Nourishing your cold bones- becoming emaciate
I am the moon pulling the ocean in and out
Mystifying your unmitigated thought
persistently
I am the matter surrounding all you
think
Which must cause you quite the horrid fright
Love breathes into life;
Without life, love dies.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 2:36 AM UTC
On the Embarcadero, winds carry clubbers' words
to me: sound of a satyr's desperation:
*maybe she'll look at me.
Maybe even with pleasure and not repulsion*:
the silent plea of devil-may-cry men ---
all blood and lusts, more beasts than heart.
Some swing blunt cutlasses that never cleave,
sip hypnotic wine from offering hands, unknown beneath a coverlet.
Others dance into the lacuna of their lives:
decade(s) of searching, yearning,
yoked like juments, under the mortal whip:
sad boys in need of love;
infatuation;
amity;
acquaintance;
lust;
pleasure;
a look:
anything.
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 4:02 PM UTC
Beneath the skin / Behind the canvas
A fragile greeting found
This fragile tempest
Promised and unarmed
Unwrapped infinity
and sharing air
Anaphelbete for sharpness
Anorexic for fitting
Amnesia breaking
Mining Space
An unnerving echo in prayers
Please,
and now,
and why
There is a smile buried in the curtains
That is why our violence forgives
The lacuna is free
linen running unabated
Heavy comedy and rubber tires sail away
A stained glass sunrise
A signature war waiting under tickets
Neon spins everywhere
The taste of finger-nails
The bite of fingered-lips
Gone Again Left picking clouds
Beneath the roots
Above the rooftops
Dancing concrete with me
electronics off-beat eating the world shaking
Some where still to call us home
evacuating pain behind familiar windows
I whisper you a fire escape
a static ocean at your door
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 10:35 PM UTC
A hole for the whole;
Clarion lacuna.
The cheval glass so immaculate, coeval.
You will find yourself when you sever the sound.
But even some trees reach for the ground.
Inadequate, a voluntarily tethered thrall.
Catatonic canvas;
Goblin shark lockjaw.
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 5:18 PM UTC
Da dove ci chiamano i rimorsi?
Assenza,
assenza non sa il cuore di chi
né di che ima
perdutissima sostanza.
Sa solo che è incolmabile
quel vuoto, quella lacuna
non fosse il dilagare,
talora, d'una fervida
celestiale sovrabbondanza.
1.1k
My soul is a lacuna
In these moments of silence
There’s an empty void.
In this river of regret
It’s Hollow dark and cold.
Nothing left but bitter emptiness
I’ll still long for your touch
To hear the sound of your voice
And I don’t want to forget
Or Learn to live with the pain
These demons are relentless
And driving me insane
But If you want the leave
Don’t let me stand in your way
But Please don’t call me a fool
If I ask you stay
Let them think what they want
I don’t care what what they say
I’ll be lost and scared
In the midnight rain
If you go away
You may as well take the sun away
Dec 22, 2024
Dec 22, 2024 at 10:02 AM UTC
You looked too close, you made the mistake
You saw how smooth her bones were shaped
Now you cannot seem to look away!
You saw the light twinkling off her face
Now a dreadful feeling of pain awaits
Her hues of silver drift around the bend
Her sultry song will never end
You search the empty lacuna over again
Though knowing the gold you'll never win
So grasp gently at curdled sins!
Let the cold seep through your skin
And remember her symmetry
As you're reaching out to empty wind
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 7:06 PM UTC
i fear lacuna boring holes in eyes,
the pen in hand no longer draws meaning.
a void inverted presents my demise,
from all creation i have been weaning.
conjuring up an original thought
proves no simpler than anything before.
lack of inspiration; lust starts to clot,
innovation oozing from every pore.
racking my brain for words to fill the page.
line after line after endless blank space.
hours post-brooding, spark flies from its cage;
notions pour, ideas begin to race.
bottled emotions pour from my heartstrings,
beginning to end spilling perfect form.
the necessary release of feelings;
letting go of my own personal storm.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
I 549 giorni fa
scrivevo di aver fumato una sigaretta perché il sapore mi avrebbe ricordato te.
prova a toccarmi con un braccio, mi passerai attraverso. sono trasparente, sono fluida, sono leggera. 549 giorni fa ero aria greve di umidità, ero fatta di aria pesante & sassi, ero inchiodata al pavimento.
II 528 giorni fa
scrivevo che nel cuore avrei avuto una lacuna incolmabile, un pezzo mancante sostituito dal tuo nome, come una confessione, un'ammissione di colpevolezza. mi sbagliavo. chi sei? ci siamo mai incontrati prima d'ora? no mi spiace, non mi ricordo come ti chiami, scusa.
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 5:54 PM UTC
for M.S.
The blinds drawn, she vacated her life;
Through grieving lips she exists within the future,
Half-alive in an unconscious tongue
That allows paragon hopes to thrive:
She was whole.
No--
Blotched out and blurred,
She became a lacuna,
A Platonic anamnesis;
Believed to have believed:
The conviction of faithful mourners,
Her expulsion from Honesty.
. . .
The haunt of our occasions--
Ghost of my reflection! --
Brown eyes never shone so bright.
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 9:46 PM UTC
I swear I used to care
before I met you.
There was nothing left
after all you put me through.
They say I'm better off
but I seriously doubt it.
You stole all of my sympathy
and now I'm lost without it.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 12:25 AM UTC
Within the night Ravel's Bolero,
within that arcuate tremble,
within that instant passion fuse,
within that instantaneous release
release of self.
relief,
No I, no I, no i,
The bliss, the bliss, that is now us, and that lacuna moment.
Jan 24, 2011
Jan 24, 2011 at 9:58 PM UTC
Words that were written,
drawn in the sand,
erased with the winds,
when the horse fell to knee,
bone crushing earth,
unstoppable spite,
arrogance,
confidence,
a line crossed too often,
sparse recognition,
in moving this mountain,
so lay in your grave,
look down on my horse,
lacuna omission,
Aniquilación,
perceive with your eyes,
bribe your six gun,
ignite the fire.
Mar 10, 2010
Mar 10, 2010 at 10:04 PM UTC