Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Words
"noncompliant" poems
why is it that when I have found happiness, my urge to write begins to cease? and as I stare at the crease between your eyebrows I wonder if perhaps the reason thunder trails so far behind lightning isn’t a matter of science but instead, hesitation, as if this sort of happiness is noncompliant in which its outcome is simply consequential, but I doubt one second of my day is spent doing anything less than adoring that crease, i need not express the happiness you bring me through the lines of a poem but instead through the storm of emotions that constantly rise and fall, yet all in all, not once have I hesitated.   the happiness you bring me never falters. I have yet to witness that thunder.
0
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 11:35 AM UTC
claire-9
thunder
why is it that when I have found happiness, my urge to write begins to cease? and as I stare at the crease between your eyebrows I wonder if perhaps the reason thunder trails so far behind lightning isn’t a matter of science but instead, hesitation, as if this sort of happiness is noncompliant in which its outcome is simply consequential, but I doubt one second of my day is spent doing anything less than adoring that crease, i need not express the happiness you bring me through the lines of a poem but instead through the storm of emotions that constantly rise and fall, yet all in all, not once have I hesitated.   the happiness you bring me never falters. I have yet to witness that thunder.
Continue reading...
6
We the gentle Are meant for Sentimental For charcoal pencil thumb-smudged skies Over lamplit rented rooms on the Seine Moonlight gauzey glamoured eyes Grimy hands that write paint spin, throw clay, that grab our grandfather’s violin at all hours of the day and play. Mad with passion, starving, raving, gorged on lush love-struck life abundant, on rain-slicked splendor. We the gentle Bend toward each other in salvation as sunflowers turn inward in the absence of sunlight. Salvation. It’s all wrong We do not belong do not belong. Bloodletting stardust into the vents Hearts rent and free bleeding Feeding the over fed No page or paint, no violin No romance, no gods here But Death and Dread. We the gentle Get no roses but see red red red with arms outstretched, Fighting the tide Soft bodies open minds Not weak but kind Once fruit, now rind We aren’t meant for these times. Clear eyed and noncompliant, We who know the essence of Love Defiant, Truth in muck, truth in starlight, We feel the press on all ******* sides To run, to hide And instead sing, paint, play Write.
0
Sep 17, 2025
Sep 17, 2025 at 7:31 AM UTC
elizabeth-kelly
Defiant
We the gentle Are meant for Sentimental For charcoal pencil thumb-smudged skies Over lamplit rented rooms on the Seine Moonlight gauzey glamoured eyes Grimy hands that write paint spin, throw clay, that grab our grandfather’s violin at all hours of the day and play. Mad with passion, starving, raving, gorged on lush love-struck life abundant, on rain-slicked splendor. We the gentle Bend toward each other in salvation as sunflowers turn inward in the absence of sunlight. Salvation. It’s all wrong We do not belong do not belong. Bloodletting stardust into the vents Hearts rent and free bleeding Feeding the over fed No page or paint, no violin No romance, no gods here But Death and Dread. We the gentle Get no roses but see red red red with arms outstretched, Fighting the tide Soft bodies open minds Not weak but kind Once fruit, now rind We aren’t meant for these times. Clear eyed and noncompliant, We who know the essence of Love Defiant, Truth in muck, truth in starlight, We feel the press on all ******* sides To run, to hide And instead sing, paint, play Write.
Continue reading...
36