"lenghts" poems - Hello Poetry

' "In the world of mortals there's no greater perfection than music." ~ Impeccable Space Poetess ' Divine music beats bombard my being as non-rippened ripples The surface of my ear drums aches without perfectly harmonious sounds complementing Roses blossom in a quiet garden, some lavish quietudes here, where I've got enough peace and not the right space for a siren's songs enthralling enchantment Searching at the random pace for the most peculiar music ~ thunders in my thoughts! Those undiscovered waves appear as lustrous song lenghts, as limbs of a sound corpus slumbering in the solace of silence and rhythm Deep bits bite my emptiness and this wanton yearning forces me to reflect upon this uncultivated wilderness and what's there to miss at all means ' ***lovable etudes classical chello drifts bansuri flutes*** '

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Aug 9, 2015

Aug 9, 2015 at 9:14 AM UTC

ImpeccableSpacePoetess

In the World of Mortals there's No Greater Perfection than Music

' "In the world of mortals there's no greater perfection than music." ~ Impeccable Space Poetess ' Divine music beats bombard my being as non-rippened ripples The surface of my ear drums aches without perfectly harmonious sounds complementing Roses blossom in a quiet garden, some lavish quietudes here, where I've got enough peace and not the right space for a siren's songs enthralling enchantment Searching at the random pace for the most peculiar music ~ thunders in my thoughts! Those undiscovered waves appear as lustrous song lenghts, as limbs of a sound corpus slumbering in the solace of silence and rhythm Deep bits bite my emptiness and this wanton yearning forces me to reflect upon this uncultivated wilderness and what's there to miss at all means ' ***lovable etudes classical chello drifts bansuri flutes*** '

35

Dimly the light above me flickers, feeble, like my heart. Dust sparkles, diamond like in the fleeting beams of cold lights. Antiqued books, with yellowed pages and worn leather skins, cratered by clumsy fingers, line the dark oaken bookshelves. A fine veil of dust covers their naked skins. The walls, they were once beautiful, exotic vines crept up their lenghts, punctuated by vivid blooms. But now, now they bare a natural face. Garments pealed and faded blooms rest, fragile and wrinkled, at her feet. A dark, gray room in the final throws of death. No life survives, no light... no pulse... no thing, nothing save a single red rose. Summer Spring Winter Fall evermore she blooms. Her thick oily petals are smeared into the glass. she was there before I came. She will be there when I'm gone.

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Nov 8, 2011

Nov 8, 2011 at 10:36 PM UTC

chris-tyler-young

A Rose Sits in My Window Sill

Dimly the light above me flickers, feeble, like my heart. Dust sparkles, diamond like in the fleeting beams of cold lights. Antiqued books, with yellowed pages and worn leather skins, cratered by clumsy fingers, line the dark oaken bookshelves. A fine veil of dust covers their naked skins. The walls, they were once beautiful, exotic vines crept up their lenghts, punctuated by vivid blooms. But now, now they bare a natural face. Garments pealed and faded blooms rest, fragile and wrinkled, at her feet. A dark, gray room in the final throws of death. No life survives, no light... no pulse... no thing, nothing save a single red rose. Summer Spring Winter Fall evermore she blooms. Her thick oily petals are smeared into the glass. she was there before I came. She will be there when I'm gone.

43

I preach a sermon unheard of those herding Filling the ever-expanding sky with a lesson worth learning But willful do the people of the ground need to be To pluck the thread of true happiness and glee To bend the frame of minds, and alter the realm of their own time Many collapse their own airways in fear of other frequencies interfering But can we not see our voice is the only bearing in this mechanical clockwork we're fearing Humble voices worth applauding hide behind the voices Passive to all, in procrastination they fall The reality of loss can only sober one briefly Till we return to binge on our shallow lives so deeply A predecessor forgotten imbues nothing but doubt And all confidence you had will soon disperse If you don't take a look at who you are and converse Comparisons unneeded, will only leave you wrought Your inner-being forever saught A flock will the sapien always be rooted to Wingspans of all lenghts suited Every flight pattern a breeze transcended Only in this will you find that you grew Only in this will you find that you flew

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Jun 20, 2013

Jun 20, 2013 at 12:45 PM UTC

ZWS

A Breeze Transcended

I preach a sermon unheard of those herding Filling the ever-expanding sky with a lesson worth learning But willful do the people of the ground need to be To pluck the thread of true happiness and glee To bend the frame of minds, and alter the realm of their own time Many collapse their own airways in fear of other frequencies interfering But can we not see our voice is the only bearing in this mechanical clockwork we're fearing Humble voices worth applauding hide behind the voices Passive to all, in procrastination they fall The reality of loss can only sober one briefly Till we return to binge on our shallow lives so deeply A predecessor forgotten imbues nothing but doubt And all confidence you had will soon disperse If you don't take a look at who you are and converse Comparisons unneeded, will only leave you wrought Your inner-being forever saught A flock will the sapien always be rooted to Wingspans of all lenghts suited Every flight pattern a breeze transcended Only in this will you find that you grew Only in this will you find that you flew

21

Under a rock In the messiest river You have given me A power jam It is red And shiney And it burns With passion If you hold it closely You'd see the cracks And feel the endless vibration I always think it might break But the red rock keeps it's structure For every time I tried it It has yet to fail me It has shown me new lenghts I am terrified it might fall into little pieces One day But as you promised It always held together

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Apr 12, 2022

Apr 12, 2022 at 11:22 PM UTC

Saint8

RED JAM

Under a rock In the messiest river You have given me A power jam It is red And shiney And it burns With passion If you hold it closely You'd see the cracks And feel the endless vibration I always think it might break But the red rock keeps it's structure For every time I tried it It has yet to fail me It has shown me new lenghts I am terrified it might fall into little pieces One day But as you promised It always held together

20

Tough night Viewed yesterday Rainy sight Walked lenghts Breath fresh and Soily air Dues moisture Walked with more pace Curve path Covered a long round Nature at its best Slept morning Afternoon legs pain started Still not heeled.

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Jun 23, 2016

Jun 23, 2016 at 2:54 AM UTC

ravindra-nayak

Unhealed

Tough night Viewed yesterday Rainy sight Walked lenghts Breath fresh and Soily air Dues moisture Walked with more pace Curve path Covered a long round Nature at its best Slept morning Afternoon legs pain started Still not heeled.

14