"lossless" poems - Hello Poetry

A man is only half of what he is; always leaning towards the dim Lacking a flouted need which whorls in the mute within him A man bigots an ideal and will lark it away at the hold of his routed pith A smile is not worthwhile if the smile does not have anything to receive or to give A man is skyless; bound to his back with his dreams fixed on a rapture He gorges upon tasteless feasts gasping for that sup he hungers to recapture He does not know nor recall the times that did once befall Of the lossless suffers and how they ever meant anything at all He will become the most that he can ever endeavour Be the creature he needs to be and whichever Way it may engross him and how it moulds or claims him It will be still him but leaning not so far in the dim He would be a whole man who would give himself wholly Who would be more and only more to her and her solely His full heart would be tendered for it would not be his own If it was still partial of the heart that had since budded and grown A man would be raised and the sky would be without border A bliss amid clouds where the undiscerning muddle finds order There would be a sense to the road an approach to the wander A reason for all a kiss a need to ponder no longer There would be such rise in his depth and a contest behind bit teeth To fight for the purposed kiss to hold her and keep her from grief To offer her all embrace not too tense and not too slack For her to breathe is to breathe; now half new he would never give it back To be back upon his back with eyes busy to the sky His bones broken as her feet glide indifferently by Over his stare among cloud where she impelled his descent He’d lay fallen and broken beaten and bent If Half a man became whole does a whole man not become naught? If he fights for a dearest never afore dreamt dream then what is left to be fought? Was it his minds misgivings that would lead to such a trite giving reliving to doubt? That surfaced more than he knew; the intended whisper instead a floundering shout? Would it have been his heart that threw him from his felicity? Could his relish overwhelm and mutate into potent toxicity? Could it be fact that without thought nor without tact he impelled her? Either overthought or over loved he would have fallen the hardest and he would not rise No he would not rise anymore If there ever was such a man and ever such a she He would have her for as long as that may be Her greatest gift is after saying all this to you Is that after knowing all that you could you would feel the same way too.

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Nov 7, 2012

Nov 7, 2012 at 3:21 PM UTC

aaron-wallis

A useless Man

A man is only half of what he is; always leaning towards the dim Lacking a flouted need which whorls in the mute within him A man bigots an ideal and will lark it away at the hold of his routed pith A smile is not worthwhile if the smile does not have anything to receive or to give A man is skyless; bound to his back with his dreams fixed on a rapture He gorges upon tasteless feasts gasping for that sup he hungers to recapture He does not know nor recall the times that did once befall Of the lossless suffers and how they ever meant anything at all He will become the most that he can ever endeavour Be the creature he needs to be and whichever Way it may engross him and how it moulds or claims him It will be still him but leaning not so far in the dim He would be a whole man who would give himself wholly Who would be more and only more to her and her solely His full heart would be tendered for it would not be his own If it was still partial of the heart that had since budded and grown A man would be raised and the sky would be without border A bliss amid clouds where the undiscerning muddle finds order There would be a sense to the road an approach to the wander A reason for all a kiss a need to ponder no longer There would be such rise in his depth and a contest behind bit teeth To fight for the purposed kiss to hold her and keep her from grief To offer her all embrace not too tense and not too slack For her to breathe is to breathe; now half new he would never give it back To be back upon his back with eyes busy to the sky His bones broken as her feet glide indifferently by Over his stare among cloud where she impelled his descent He’d lay fallen and broken beaten and bent If Half a man became whole does a whole man not become naught? If he fights for a dearest never afore dreamt dream then what is left to be fought? Was it his minds misgivings that would lead to such a trite giving reliving to doubt? That surfaced more than he knew; the intended whisper instead a floundering shout? Would it have been his heart that threw him from his felicity? Could his relish overwhelm and mutate into potent toxicity? Could it be fact that without thought nor without tact he impelled her? Either overthought or over loved he would have fallen the hardest and he would not rise No he would not rise anymore If there ever was such a man and ever such a she He would have her for as long as that may be Her greatest gift is after saying all this to you Is that after knowing all that you could you would feel the same way too.