"matriculating" poems - Hello Poetry

to have been lead through slumbering paddocks by held hands; hope, the deity, nonexistent and relentless, i felt alive- was i but the subject of her meticulously-planned humour? was i the joke, or the punchline? boldly ripening into mistaken aphasias, i find my melting thoughts matriculating into sharp movements in the dark: curves patterned, ribcages' separation, a gaussian blur of intertwined epidermal rivulets, your soft, slow imaginings becoming tiny flecks of graphite smeared a page's width, intricately sown across skin, that light trickles through a sliver in the curtains to wordlessly illuminate. seventh memory: a peeling away, a mandarin on the kitchen counter. watching stars disappear from atop the balustrade, we sit mere fragments apart, yet at great distance, like the fog of the cities we carry out the moments of our regularized lives, within. finally, i become translucent. yet, what have the stars become?

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Nov 4, 2013

Nov 4, 2013 at 10:33 PM UTC

tom-mccone

any day's opacity

to have been lead through slumbering paddocks by held hands; hope, the deity, nonexistent and relentless, i felt alive- was i but the subject of her meticulously-planned humour? was i the joke, or the punchline? boldly ripening into mistaken aphasias, i find my melting thoughts matriculating into sharp movements in the dark: curves patterned, ribcages' separation, a gaussian blur of intertwined epidermal rivulets, your soft, slow imaginings becoming tiny flecks of graphite smeared a page's width, intricately sown across skin, that light trickles through a sliver in the curtains to wordlessly illuminate. seventh memory: a peeling away, a mandarin on the kitchen counter. watching stars disappear from atop the balustrade, we sit mere fragments apart, yet at great distance, like the fog of the cities we carry out the moments of our regularized lives, within. finally, i become translucent. yet, what have the stars become?

35

*Attacked by that which I love I hold my ground try to maintain sanity pain matriculating poisonous seeds one-by-one planted, deep within me tears formulate I’m on the brink of releasing Darts of fire directed at me I take cover shielding myself from the attack dodging the consistent blaze though most of me am covered still parts of me gets burned It hurts... I'm wounded... Is there a fire extinguisher for pain?* PLEASE use it on me now!!! ~ButterFly εїз 2011 ©

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Mar 4, 2014

Mar 4, 2014 at 6:41 PM UTC

yhama-butterfly

Darts of Love~

*Attacked by that which I love I hold my ground try to maintain sanity pain matriculating poisonous seeds one-by-one planted, deep within me tears formulate I’m on the brink of releasing Darts of fire directed at me I take cover shielding myself from the attack dodging the consistent blaze though most of me am covered still parts of me gets burned It hurts... I'm wounded... Is there a fire extinguisher for pain?* PLEASE use it on me now!!! ~ButterFly εїз 2011 ©

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**media holocaust dumbing down society matriculating detachment's spineless dump, weapons of mass distraction's convergence assimilating adaptation's explored transmissions in conversions of auxiliary's pseudo-redemption anxiety cast in embittered expulsions of ubiquitous foghorns flailing in numbing flat notes, off key in theatrical productions' translation failure to cease & desist standby sub-humanity, close-captioned in radioactive hieroglyphics on the walls of expectations' exasperation**

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Apr 17, 2015

Apr 17, 2015 at 4:34 PM UTC

poetessa-diabolical

dumbing down society

**media holocaust dumbing down society matriculating detachment's spineless dump, weapons of mass distraction's convergence assimilating adaptation's explored transmissions in conversions of auxiliary's pseudo-redemption anxiety cast in embittered expulsions of ubiquitous foghorns flailing in numbing flat notes, off key in theatrical productions' translation failure to cease & desist standby sub-humanity, close-captioned in radioactive hieroglyphics on the walls of expectations' exasperation**

11

(+) vibrations buzzzzzzzz lifting mouths & spirits r ning d ow out the (-) i n g matriculating curves t w i s t quickly churning bending like w a t e r in a whirlpool with/ou t grrrravity as we sail on the stream of consciousness to another realm inside ourselves on our rainbow brain boat visiting tye-dye twilight night skies giggling wind PLAYING with our hair beginning to laugh like cats after discovering chicken it the fridge. We sing Hendrix Joplin Morrison Floyd Lennon and Shankar all the way to the shore of the island.

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Jul 11, 2013

Jul 11, 2013 at 10:06 AM UTC

brycical

smile-land

(+) vibrations buzzzzzzzz lifting mouths & spirits r ning d ow out the (-) i n g matriculating curves t w i s t quickly churning bending like w a t e r in a whirlpool with/ou t grrrravity as we sail on the stream of consciousness to another realm inside ourselves on our rainbow brain boat visiting tye-dye twilight night skies giggling wind PLAYING with our hair beginning to laugh like cats after discovering chicken it the fridge. We sing Hendrix Joplin Morrison Floyd Lennon and Shankar all the way to the shore of the island.

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The lecturer stands, waving her hands Wildly gesticulating Squawking and screeching and and humming and preaching Whilst our minds fix on matriculating "Please, please I beg of you Responsible for shaping heads Tell your children this is true - Use any verb other than 'said'!" She demonstrates the dialogue tags That we sages can impart "Replied", "enquired", "sighed", "ragged" "Norted", "blorted", "ogled", "blarted" - But if a child uses all these What kind of field will they have built? Cohesive, engaging, with wonderful staging Or splotted and sploged like a patchwork quilt? For you see - All the words inside your head The ones who unwittingly cover for "said" Are the drink-addled maidens you see in the street Holding their heels and walking in bare feet Flipping their hairs and waving their phones Cackling and snickering in shrilliing, thrilling tones As their best friends, the adverbs, grab them by their hair Determined to prevent an emetic scare To-ing and fro-ing, and never quite knowing Where exactly it is they are going All they know is they eschew intervention By boldly pleading for more and more attention But "said" is a lady of quiet grace Wearing long tresses, muted dresses and a fair face And sits beside each word with a natural restraint Holding up quotations without complaint Till it blends through the text like smooth, creamy paint And fades till it becomes so, so faint That it only feels natural to focus instead On the intentions of the characters inside of your head It's a word that fills most teachers with dread But I earnestly plead to befriend the word "said" For she's a hard-working lady with quiet conviction - Does that help with your language affliction?

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Sep 16, 2014

Sep 16, 2014 at 10:53 PM UTC

emilia-leonetti

Make Friends With "Said"!

The lecturer stands, waving her hands Wildly gesticulating Squawking and screeching and and humming and preaching Whilst our minds fix on matriculating "Please, please I beg of you Responsible for shaping heads Tell your children this is true - Use any verb other than 'said'!" She demonstrates the dialogue tags That we sages can impart "Replied", "enquired", "sighed", "ragged" "Norted", "blorted", "ogled", "blarted" - But if a child uses all these What kind of field will they have built? Cohesive, engaging, with wonderful staging Or splotted and sploged like a patchwork quilt? For you see - All the words inside your head The ones who unwittingly cover for "said" Are the drink-addled maidens you see in the street Holding their heels and walking in bare feet Flipping their hairs and waving their phones Cackling and snickering in shrilliing, thrilling tones As their best friends, the adverbs, grab them by their hair Determined to prevent an emetic scare To-ing and fro-ing, and never quite knowing Where exactly it is they are going All they know is they eschew intervention By boldly pleading for more and more attention But "said" is a lady of quiet grace Wearing long tresses, muted dresses and a fair face And sits beside each word with a natural restraint Holding up quotations without complaint Till it blends through the text like smooth, creamy paint And fades till it becomes so, so faint That it only feels natural to focus instead On the intentions of the characters inside of your head It's a word that fills most teachers with dread But I earnestly plead to befriend the word "said" For she's a hard-working lady with quiet conviction - Does that help with your language affliction?

41

warmer winds breathing human heat, echoing nostalgia, bending curriculum. ***** pack's students wade in, just as nomadic as their predecessors past the tour of tilted rocks towards the swelter shelter. yellow busses spit diesel clouds, particulates and their masters matriculating in an ever ending search for fudge. fossils forgotten for facebook, a dismal display of disrespect. nomads nonetheless.

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Feb 6, 2018

Feb 6, 2018 at 7:42 PM UTC

_trf

Swelter Shelter

warmer winds breathing human heat, echoing nostalgia, bending curriculum. ***** pack's students wade in, just as nomadic as their predecessors past the tour of tilted rocks towards the swelter shelter. yellow busses spit diesel clouds, particulates and their masters matriculating in an ever ending search for fudge. fossils forgotten for facebook, a dismal display of disrespect. nomads nonetheless.

12

less than half a dozen hours remain here in Lake Woebegone, an idyllic enclave, where legal tender, liquid assets, minted monies by the metric ton loot, et cetera replaced with sharing home good humor spun prevarication, or a pun where this Norwegian bachelor farmer, now sets timer counting down to the one hundred and fifth International Women's Day, hence dada's taxi service necessitated (asper my own volition) none forsaking a substantial block of time to ferry (via 2009 Hyundai Sonata) thine eldest (of deux darling damsels doggedly, diligently, and definitively) whose maternal hue ma in instincts (staking out vocational, interpersonal, Jew dish hiss lee courting biological objectives Since matriculating At University Of Pennsylvania she seriously eyed the engineering curriculum, and as an inherent high achieving civilian, this rugged cerebral terra firmae terrain emitting a signal calling she knew tubby meant foe her, thus this proud papa his new wish availing self less father summoned, pressed, and mustered joyriding glommed within mental motor queue thus despite experiencing a minor panic attack (with nausea more pronounced than usual), aye did not want Eden (her first name) to feel disgruntled toward pop (hood rather die) as opposed to slacking off where fatherhood concerned strove to be a beneficial guy especially before the stroke of midnight will usher well nigh till next year long overdue attention, now bequeathed during these twenty four hours when non gun shy textile women (shunted subaltern second class workers) in New York (circa 1907), but said event opened to dispute, but less in doubt historical records indicate 1914 International Women's Day held on March 8 since then continued along a linkedin chain in case you wondered why.

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Mar 8, 2018

Mar 8, 2018 at 9:16 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

international women's day march 8, 2018

less than half a dozen hours remain here in Lake Woebegone, an idyllic enclave, where legal tender, liquid assets, minted monies by the metric ton loot, et cetera replaced with sharing home good humor spun prevarication, or a pun where this Norwegian bachelor farmer, now sets timer counting down to the one hundred and fifth International Women's Day, hence dada's taxi service necessitated (asper my own volition) none forsaking a substantial block of time to ferry (via 2009 Hyundai Sonata) thine eldest (of deux darling damsels doggedly, diligently, and definitively) whose maternal hue ma in instincts (staking out vocational, interpersonal, Jew dish hiss lee courting biological objectives Since matriculating At University Of Pennsylvania she seriously eyed the engineering curriculum, and as an inherent high achieving civilian, this rugged cerebral terra firmae terrain emitting a signal calling she knew tubby meant foe her, thus this proud papa his new wish availing self less father summoned, pressed, and mustered joyriding glommed within mental motor queue thus despite experiencing a minor panic attack (with nausea more pronounced than usual), aye did not want Eden (her first name) to feel disgruntled toward pop (hood rather die) as opposed to slacking off where fatherhood concerned strove to be a beneficial guy especially before the stroke of midnight will usher well nigh till next year long overdue attention, now bequeathed during these twenty four hours when non gun shy textile women (shunted subaltern second class workers) in New York (circa 1907), but said event opened to dispute, but less in doubt historical records indicate 1914 International Women's Day held on March 8 since then continued along a linkedin chain in case you wondered why.

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