"lully" poems - Hello Poetry

In dull radiance he came to be, humbled in the belittle of broken, and dying trees, he gleams, in the darkly unseen seams of beautiful, beautifully, rippling through his being, where even the stars shall sing of dustly dreams, twisting and drifting into the lully, uplifting, sinking of doubt, as he drown in an endless ocean of sound, precision thoughts, but not, to be gone in his lossless spawn, of the epiphanies sprawled upon his heart, and from the dead Earth he grew, born anew, in the molten fluid of lucid wounds, strewn about in floating tombs, shattered and scattered upon the planets, as the latter scavenged trinkets of testimonial pull, in the disharmonious hum from black holes, crafting his soul, in the gentleful stroll, to existence.

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Sep 30, 2012

Sep 30, 2012 at 12:36 AM UTC

Mikhael

, another opens.

In dull radiance he came to be, humbled in the belittle of broken, and dying trees, he gleams, in the darkly unseen seams of beautiful, beautifully, rippling through his being, where even the stars shall sing of dustly dreams, twisting and drifting into the lully, uplifting, sinking of doubt, as he drown in an endless ocean of sound, precision thoughts, but not, to be gone in his lossless spawn, of the epiphanies sprawled upon his heart, and from the dead Earth he grew, born anew, in the molten fluid of lucid wounds, strewn about in floating tombs, shattered and scattered upon the planets, as the latter scavenged trinkets of testimonial pull, in the disharmonious hum from black holes, crafting his soul, in the gentleful stroll, to existence.

1

You let the music run rough shot, right over you. Don’t you miss those calming blues, The cadences and melodies that soothed, Lully-byes intertwined with sweet good byes, Celtic songs that longed to make you cry, To help you find your celestial delight, The soft thrumming of tribal humming, The slow tempo that takes you home, To old memories? I am not saying that their displaying A bad kind of vibe, Or that they’re too far gone to the wrong To ever find what’s right, To lost in the night to ever see the light. Angry faces flare firing fist for fighting, But sometimes all that anger Just doesn’t seem right. All that bark still carries all that bite, And I wonder if it’s in the rage That you forget yourself Do you lose the day? Tell me what does your inner nature say? Is there a bit of peace? Or did you give it all away, To that vicious beast, To that malicious beat, Sizzling electric and vocal shock Yeah the hard knocks we all call hard rock?

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Dec 8, 2014

Dec 8, 2014 at 6:49 PM UTC

graff1980

Hard Rock

You let the music run rough shot, right over you. Don’t you miss those calming blues, The cadences and melodies that soothed, Lully-byes intertwined with sweet good byes, Celtic songs that longed to make you cry, To help you find your celestial delight, The soft thrumming of tribal humming, The slow tempo that takes you home, To old memories? I am not saying that their displaying A bad kind of vibe, Or that they’re too far gone to the wrong To ever find what’s right, To lost in the night to ever see the light. Angry faces flare firing fist for fighting, But sometimes all that anger Just doesn’t seem right. All that bark still carries all that bite, And I wonder if it’s in the rage That you forget yourself Do you lose the day? Tell me what does your inner nature say? Is there a bit of peace? Or did you give it all away, To that vicious beast, To that malicious beat, Sizzling electric and vocal shock Yeah the hard knocks we all call hard rock?

28

I have sand under both of my ******* and blood under each of my nails Your song breaks us together your love shakes me home

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Aug 1, 2017

Aug 1, 2017 at 3:22 AM UTC

misshoney

Lully Love

I have sand under both of my ******* and blood under each of my nails Your song breaks us together your love shakes me home

4

/Lully, lullay, thou tine child/ O sisters too, how may we do, for preserve this day. This poor youngling for whom we sing. /"Bye, Bye, lully, lullay"?/ Three wise men would ascertain, Great Herod's crown, it would wane. So mothers they weep for sons two and under, bodies seem gaudy amongst clothes, asunder. Though the son of man is left not slain. Should he die, It shan't be in vain.

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Dec 13, 2018

Dec 13, 2018 at 8:19 PM UTC

klaus-1

Herod's Rage.

/Lully, lullay, thou tine child/ O sisters too, how may we do, for preserve this day. This poor youngling for whom we sing. /"Bye, Bye, lully, lullay"?/ Three wise men would ascertain, Great Herod's crown, it would wane. So mothers they weep for sons two and under, bodies seem gaudy amongst clothes, asunder. Though the son of man is left not slain. Should he die, It shan't be in vain.

10