"neri" poems - Hello Poetry

Please Pogo music, wake me up. The night, now reduced to warm laptop light, is inching toward dawn. I pray to the patron saints of writers - is it Neri or Ávila? Whichever is on call I suppose. “I’ve indulged in reprobation,” I confess, openly to the fuzzy, waxing, crescent moon. “I need that alchemy that turns coffee and a rough outline into an actual paper.” I yank off my hoodie, fling my window open wide and hang myself out like wet laundry. Have you ever tasted ***** Vile stuff really. The forty degree breeze feels like heaven and my eyes begin to focus. I peel off my leggings to let my entire skin tingle with cold. My Keurig beeps confidently. I found a couple of peanut energy bars in my bookbag and rip them open like a ****** who’s discovered a forgotten stash. I devour them so quickly it’s like a magic trick - then I brush my teeth. I take several slow deep breaths. I can DO this, I assure myself, but my outline looks adequate at best. I need this done so I can relax with a super bowl party pizza Sunday. The song “Data & Picard,” sets me to dancing, “It’s better to have loved and lost..” Patrick Stewart as Jean-Luc Picard pronounces, perfectly auto-tuned to the music. I love this song. I love the night. I love the challenge. I set myself to the task and finish, three hours later, as the sun breaks into morning.

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Feb 12, 2022

Feb 12, 2022 at 7:28 AM UTC

anaisvionet

***** plus essays

Please Pogo music, wake me up. The night, now reduced to warm laptop light, is inching toward dawn. I pray to the patron saints of writers - is it Neri or Ávila? Whichever is on call I suppose. “I’ve indulged in reprobation,” I confess, openly to the fuzzy, waxing, crescent moon. “I need that alchemy that turns coffee and a rough outline into an actual paper.” I yank off my hoodie, fling my window open wide and hang myself out like wet laundry. Have you ever tasted ***** Vile stuff really. The forty degree breeze feels like heaven and my eyes begin to focus. I peel off my leggings to let my entire skin tingle with cold. My Keurig beeps confidently. I found a couple of peanut energy bars in my bookbag and rip them open like a ****** who’s discovered a forgotten stash. I devour them so quickly it’s like a magic trick - then I brush my teeth. I take several slow deep breaths. I can DO this, I assure myself, but my outline looks adequate at best. I need this done so I can relax with a super bowl party pizza Sunday. The song “Data & Picard,” sets me to dancing, “It’s better to have loved and lost..” Patrick Stewart as Jean-Luc Picard pronounces, perfectly auto-tuned to the music. I love this song. I love the night. I love the challenge. I set myself to the task and finish, three hours later, as the sun breaks into morning.

9

Neri Oxman once said: "You have to go away, to come back home. You'll never truly have a sense of home, until you leave home." Such discontentment over the thought of home can never carry the despair that is just so wary. Henceforth; I bemoaned of home--- only to wander far away from it. Only to never come back home. Because in truth, my "home" had been lost. My "home" already went away. New one, old one--- They depict such distinct disparity But then again... this is as good as it can get. Yet, bemoan I still.

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Aug 2, 2021

Aug 2, 2021 at 9:15 PM UTC

ShannonSoeganda

Bemoan

Neri Oxman once said: "You have to go away, to come back home. You'll never truly have a sense of home, until you leave home." Such discontentment over the thought of home can never carry the despair that is just so wary. Henceforth; I bemoaned of home--- only to wander far away from it. Only to never come back home. Because in truth, my "home" had been lost. My "home" already went away. New one, old one--- They depict such distinct disparity But then again... this is as good as it can get. Yet, bemoan I still.

15

Jo i soj neri di amòur né frut né rosignòul dut intèir coma un flòur i brami sensa sen. Soj levat ienfra li violis intant ch'a sclariva, ciantànt un ciant dismintiàt ta la not vualiva. Mi soj dit: "Narcìs!" e un spirt cu'l me vis al scuriva la erba cu'l clar dai so ris.

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675

Pier Paolo Pasolini

Dansa di Narcìs

Jo i soj neri di amòur né frut né rosignòul dut intèir coma un flòur i brami sensa sen. Soj levat ienfra li violis intant ch'a sclariva, ciantànt un ciant dismintiàt ta la not vualiva. Mi soj dit: "Narcìs!" e un spirt cu'l me vis al scuriva la erba cu'l clar dai so ris.

12

Bus eik bast kaho.. Bitaya Tha Jaha paharo pahar... Gujarti ** tum, jab woha se... Hum yaad nahi aate. Bus eik baat kaho... Barasti hai jab megha tumpe... Bhige the his megh me hum... Woo magh tumhe, yaad nahi aate. Bus eik baat kaho... Chuta hai jab, wo tumhare badan ko.. Neri unglio ki chuwan, Teri hethei pe... Tab bhi hum, yaad nahi aate. Abb eik baat tu sun... Ka Liya, bitaa diya air gawa diya... Pahro pahar intazar aur sankaro mauko ko humne... Roz ladta Hu Mai khud se.. Ki, bhul kar rahunga Mai... Abb mita diya yaadon kon Teri.. Par dil bada kambhakat hai... Par ye dil, bada kambhakat hai....... Suno na, bus eik baat kaho.. Sach me, Keri yaad nahi aata?

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Dec 13, 2019

Dec 13, 2019 at 2:56 PM UTC

vrish

Eik baat kaho..

Bus eik bast kaho.. Bitaya Tha Jaha paharo pahar... Gujarti ** tum, jab woha se... Hum yaad nahi aate. Bus eik baat kaho... Barasti hai jab megha tumpe... Bhige the his megh me hum... Woo magh tumhe, yaad nahi aate. Bus eik baat kaho... Chuta hai jab, wo tumhare badan ko.. Neri unglio ki chuwan, Teri hethei pe... Tab bhi hum, yaad nahi aate. Abb eik baat tu sun... Ka Liya, bitaa diya air gawa diya... Pahro pahar intazar aur sankaro mauko ko humne... Roz ladta Hu Mai khud se.. Ki, bhul kar rahunga Mai... Abb mita diya yaadon kon Teri.. Par dil bada kambhakat hai... Par ye dil, bada kambhakat hai....... Suno na, bus eik baat kaho.. Sach me, Keri yaad nahi aata?

22